


The Lie Called Fate

by Lady Aconite (LadyAconiteWolfe)



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angry dragon mom, Byleth is god now, Concerned but accepting Jeralt, Fix-It, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Multi, NG+, Not Canon Compliant, Started Pre-Ashen Wolves, Surprise Adoption, We're just going to accept that, possible angst
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-03
Updated: 2020-04-06
Packaged: 2020-09-28 04:03:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 32,298
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20419601
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyAconiteWolfe/pseuds/Lady%20Aconite
Summary: Some things are said to be fate. Immovable and predestined, utterly unchanging in the grand scheme of time's flow. However. Sometimes the Goddess herself breaks the universe, screaming "screw fate" at the top of her lungs and creates her own destiny. Not because she's God, but because before that she was mortal.





	1. Chapter 1

_20th of Horsebow, Year 1159_

Thinking back, it's a bit ironic. Irie was born in a tomb, created from the blood of a demigod through the same process that exact demigod was originally created with. Not born in a womb of flesh, but in a coffin of stone. She was given a heart, but it was purposeless because of the stone that was placed alongside it. A stone that was supposed to be the heart and soul of her grandmother. 

The Progenitor God. 

Irie was the 12th 'daughter' of Rhea. The only one that actually lived. All of Rhea's prior experiments were either born human or didn't ever wake up. Irie did. Irie was the 12th daughter of Seiros. Irie was also the only one who lived. And she wasn't human. That was certain enough. She was born in a tomb and made from nothing but soil and blood and seemingly phased into existence fully grown. She wasn't supposed to be Irie. She was supposed to be Sothis. And Seiros was supposed to dispose of failures. But her mother was also Rhea, and Rhea couldn't bring herself to kill her own daughter. 

So she let Irie live in the monastery as a nun. The problem was that Rhea couldn't retrieve the Creststone till Irie passed away, and Irie was as much a daughter of Rhea as Seiros was a daughter of Sothis. Irie would seemingly share all of the traits that the rest of her family shared. Slightly pointed ears, the ability to shift forms into a dragon, and of course the seemingly unlimited lifespan which was present between all of her kin. She wouldn't die. Not by natural causes anyway. 

Rhea decided that bridge would be crossed when they got to it. After properly clothing and educating her new daughter, Irie was made a nun. Slowly over time, she learned from Rhea the true history of their people. She learned about her grandmother and why Irie herself was born. 

Then she was given a job. 

It was a simple job. Take care of Fodlan. Guide its people. Make others happy. Rhea would continue her search to revive not only her mother but her other lost kin. There were other Creststones she could use as experiments while Irie still breathed. Irie was told more things than she probably should have been, learned about Seiros' true face and saw the insanity in the older woman's quest for the revival of the dead. But she still loved the woman she called mother and truly was a faithful of the Goddess. Her grandmother. 

Irie did her job with pride. She flourished in the monastery and was widely considered to be the most beautiful woman anyone had ever seen. Touched by the Goddess, they called her. Her hair started teal and tapered into a light green which was identical to Rhea's. It always stayed that way, as though by magic. No matter how long or short she cut her hair, half of it would always remain that beautiful light green and everything above the halfway mark all the way to her roots would stay teal. 

She was happy.

And then she met Jeralt.

The current captain of the Knights who'd saved Irie's mother a long time ago. Irie liked Jeralt, the man who seemed much older than his appearance originally implied. The man she later learned had been blessed by her mother when he was close to dying, as thanks for protection. A man who's age even then she couldn't begin to guess. 

She stopped trying when Jeralt told her he was old enough to remember when Faerghus was still apart of the Adrestian Empire. 

It took Irie a while to pick up on but eventually, she realized he was trying to court her. And it worked. It worked astoundingly well. She fell fast and hard, as though the two were made for each other. Perhaps fated even, though she'd always questioned the concept of fate. Irie believed wholly in the Goddess, as did Jeralt, but neither one believed that their entire lives were laid out for them. 

Life wasn't some kind of play. It could very quickly go off the rails. As both were soon going to learn. 

Things went smoothly, the courtship went well, and eventually, Rhea gave the pair her blessing to get married. It wasn't a question that she would officiate the wedding. It was kept small, mostly because it wasn't exactly common knowledge that Rhea had a daughter. It was known by Jeralt and a few other high ranking church members, but mostly it was kept hushed. Irie was glad. If people were aware of the fact that Irie was Rhea's daughter the marriage would have been a much bigger deal, and Irie already hated having to sit through noble weddings. To have her own be such a spectacle? Psh. 

It didn't take long for Irie to find herself with a child. A child who was remarkably still all throughout the pregnancy. Rhea started acting weird the moment she found out Irie was pregnant. Jeralt started to feel uncomfortable but didn't really question it until she sent him out on a mission when Irie was almost due. Irie sent him off with a smile and words of encouragement. 

She really shouldn't have. 

When it came time for the birth she felt alone. No one but Rhea was deemed fit enough to attend her and Rhea took her down into the holy tomb which was already enough for Irie to start feeling uncomfortable. 

It was then that Irie realized she probably wasn't going to survive the birth, both she and Rhea knew it. That's why they were down here and why no one else was to attend her. She was going to die in the same place as she was born. Rhea would scrap her and start over, continuing in her attempts to revive Sothis. Irie wasn't angry, but she'd be lying if she said the realization hadn't hurt almost as much as the labor pains. 

Hours upon hours of screaming in a cold and empty tomb, her howls bouncing right back to her own ears, eventually yielded results. Bad results. The child that her body had struggled so valiantly to bring into the world, the child she was dying for, this precious child of hers was stillborn and she was bleeding out. 

"No, no, no," Rhea whispered under her breath, grabbing onto Irie's hand with the ferocity that continually reminded Irie what she and her mother really were. The still child was placed against her chest, still slick with her own blood. "Please, Irie. Don't," Rhea begged. Actually begged. There was something so pathetically broken in Rhea's eyes that Irie realized maybe she wasn't meant to just be scrapped. Maybe Irie had actually become a little important to Rhea. Perhaps the wounds left by the death of Sothis were finally starting to heal. And just like that Irie was being snatched away. 

Irie held onto her mother's hand, her body feeling cold and numb. "Take the Creststone from me. Give it to her," the words were hard to force out but she managed. Rhea realized what Irie was trying to say and nodded. 

The last thing Irie saw before her consciousness began to fade was her mother letting go of her and disappearing to go and obtain the materials for the Creststone transfer. 

Irie closed her eyes, ready to disappear. And then her eyes opened again. She felt as though she was still in the tomb, but it felt different. The room was dark with a pale green light shining down on the throne which once belonged to her grandmother. And there was someone sleeping on the throne. A little girl. The girl stirred, blinking blearily and sitting up with a yawn. "Oh, already?" She asked as though she'd been expecting Irie. 

The girl waited for some kind of reaction but all she got was confusion. "Why are you looking at me like that? Don't you know who I am? Surely Rhea must have described my appearance to you even once! Oh, very well. If you truly can't recognize me then I must introduce myself. My name is Sothis, or better known as The Beginning."

"You're Sothis?" Irie whispered so quietly that Sothis almost didn't catch it. 

"Yes, I look quite youthful and beautiful for already being a great grandmother, do I not?" Sothis laughed. She paused for a moment, as though listening to a voice that Irie couldn't hear. "Yes, yes, I'm getting there. I'll explain everything, just give her a moment to process," Sothis muttered to whatever had spoken to her. Sothis yawned another time, swiping at her eyes to banish the last remains of sleep. 

"Are you here to judge me before I pass on?" Irie asked hesitantly. She thought she was a good person, but standing face to face with the actual Goddess made her wonder if perhaps her immortal soul was doomed to the damned. 

Sothis shook her head. "No, actually. Quite the opposite. I'm here to try and give you a second chance. Try, being the keyword." 

"Why? I mean no disrespect. If you can truly give me a second chance then I'll waste not a single moment loving and caring for my family. But I can't understand why. I get that I'm your granddaughter, but does that mean I get special treatment? It feels a bit unfair if that's why," Irie couldn't help but ramble, her nerves finally coming to the surface. She was speaking to not just an old and respected family member, but God. God herself. 

"Hush, I'll explain if you let me speak," Sothis said, pretending to look cross. "This might be a bit hard to understand, so pay careful attention. I don't want to explain to you multiple times like I have to with _some people_. As you know I have been dead for a great many years. But as the Goddess of time, I still hold dominion over its ebb and flow. I speak to you now having already seen the future. All of the events taking place here have happened once before. The future I'm from? It's fairly miserable."

"When Rhea places the Creststone inside of your child, she will live again but at the cost of having to carry around my consciousness. Dealing with the fact her emotions will be sealed away until I awaken within her. Or at least, that's how things are supposed to go. When she turns 20 she will awake to me, or more so, she did in a Future Past. She is, in essence, my reincarnation, and in an act of desperation, I merged our two souls together. Rhea had seemingly lost her mind and let her enemies, Those Who Slither In The Dark, run amok. While both of us are our own consciousness, she carries my memories and in a lot of ways has become the new Sothis. I'm little more than a ghost of a consciousness that still exists for little reason other than the fact she wishes it so and the wishes of a Goddess oft become rules." 

"She was made very unhappy in the future due to watching a lot of people she loved suffer. We kept using our powers to go back to the moment in which I first awoke to try again for a happier ending. Then it dawned on us. She and I exist outside of time, separate from it's flow. At least our soul does anyway. So this is our answer. Going all the way back to her first moments, so we can right the wrongs of the past before they even occur. Starting with you. While still in a relatively weak state due to the fact part of my spirit is trapped in the Creststone, it's still bound to my other half which gives me more of my powers than I should have right about now. When Rhea removes the Creststone I'm going to attempt to jump-start your heart into beating as well as heal your injuries from the birth."

Sothis paused, giving Irie a moment to catch up. "So I'll really get a second chance?"

"If this works. But in exchange, I need you to promise me... promise us something."

"Anything!" Irie was more than willing to do complete the request of her Goddess, but more than that, her daughter was the reincarnation of said Goddess. Her daughter. Who she was actually going to get to love and raise. 

"Do not tell Rhea any of what you've been told. We'll tell her eventually, but for now, it's important that Rhea doesn't know what she and I actually are. In addition, there are a lot of things we're going to need you to help us do. While the both of us maintain our memories from prior to 'resetting' as you might describe it, she's still going to be a child and there's a lot of things we're going to need to try and do while still a child if the future is to play out in a pleasant manner," Sothis made herself sound as dire as she possibly could while she spoke. 

"I agree to these terms," Irie said with a quick nod. It was going to be weird knowing that the child she'd just given birth to already had the mind of an adult, but it was also strange when Irie was born was well. In fact, it was almost the opposite of Irie who'd been born with an adult body and a child's mind. She assuaged her worried as much as she could. This would still be her child, and she'd love this child no matter what. Maybe that made Irie weird, but her very existence was weird. 

"Very well. I will do my best to ensure you survive. One last thing though. Name her Byleth," with the final words from Sothis, Irie felt herself get thrown back into the cold darkness. Long moments passed before her limbs could suddenly feel again. 

She struggled desperately to open her eyes and eventually managed to. She was greeted by the tomb once more, but now more how she remembered it being before meeting Sothis. She looked around, seeing her own blood-spattered chest but no visible injury. The sound of frantic crying came to her ears.

Turning she saw Rhea. Hold her child. Byleth, she corrected herself, the baby's name was Byleth. Likely something that was picked by Jeralt in the... prior reset, Sothis called it. Rhea's expression was unnerving and Byleth was struggling in Rhea's arms, crying and wiggling as though she wanted to be as far away from Rhea as physically possible. Rhea though, Rhea looked like she'd been handed everything she'd ever wanted. As though that final shard of sanity had finally broken, snapping in on itself. She looked insane. Like a woman who'd finally lost everything including her mind. And all of that possessive insanity was directed straight at the child. Irie's child.

Hell. Fucking. No. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey there! A couple of friends and I have started a Discord to just hang out and chat. We're opening it up to the readers of our various stories so I'm smacking a link here. Swing by and join us for a chat!
> 
> https://discord.gg/ppvwean
> 
> If you're seeing this too late and we've had to close the link due to having too many people, get in touch with me on twitter @AconiteWolfe and you can get an invite. Additionally, you can follow me over there for story updates or just to watch me do chaotic dumbass things like 24-hour write-a-thons.


	2. Chapter 2

_28th of Horsebow, Year 1159_

After Irie saw the expression plastered to Rhea's face, it was only a matter of time before the two hit a breaking point. 

Rhea was happy when she found out her daughter was alive. Floored even. Irie, who was slightly bitter after seeing the way her own mother looked at her daughter, couldn't really take her words at face value. There was obviously at least some maternal joy there, but it felt... tainted when compared to how Rhea acted when Irie was a child. Her sneaking suspicion that Rhea was only so ecstatic because it counted as a "Divine Miracle" didn't really help her mood. 

Irie kept very about having met Sothis. She kept even quieter about the relationship she'd learned the Progenitor God had come to share with her own daughter. Irie still didn't quite understand the explanation, not all of it. What she did understand was a general distrust for Rhea, temporary or not, and giving the manic joy on the Archbishop's expression every time she looked at the baby Rhea wasn't all that trustworthy. It wasn't just that either. Rhea was pushy. She wanted to be involved in every aspect of the child's life, be it naming or raising. 

Irie swore that Rhea probably would have named the child Sothis if Irie hadn't been so forceful about naming the child herself. 

The two, suffice to say, got into their first argument no more than hours after Byelth was born. The arguing continued until Jeralt got home and for as long as Irie was able to withstand staying in the monastery. She didn't want to step out into a world unknown, full of potential dangers for her and her daughter, but it was starting to seem like the biggest danger lived in the room next to hers and tried to hold the child every time Irie turned the other direction. 

Irie had entered this world completely blind, but Jeralt in their time together had taught her that some things were worth fighting for. She considered her daughter to be one of these things, even if she had to fight her own mother to keep that daughter safe. 

Byleth. Her precious little Byleth. Rhea had hated the name immediately. Said it sounded too much like the name of a mythological demon. Irie didn't care. This was the name that Sothis had handed her on a silver platter, she wasn't going to pick something else. Maybe it was intentional on the part of whoever picked the name. Maybe it was her husband being an idiot in Future Past. Who knew and who cared! The name was Byleth and it was going to stay Byleth no matter how many alternatives Rhea gently cooed while petting Irie's head and trying to convince her to 'let the nurse take care of the child for a moment, you look so tired my dear one. You've hardly a moment's rest sweet child, just relax'. 

Given the way the child wailed every time Rhea got to close, the association to Beleth almost felt fitting. 

Irie was bad at telling the true intentions of others. It was a deficit that came with the nature of her raising. Which was why she for the life of her couldn't tell if Rhea was actually happy she was still alive or was just excited by the birth of Byleth, which meant the potential reincarnation of Sothis. 

Things only seemed to get tenser when Jeralt came back. 

He didn't understand what was going on, just that Byleth was born and that Irie and Rhea were fighting now apparently. Irie honestly prefered to keep her husband ignorant, but Rhea was starting to become a problem. After the fifth attempt to separate mother and child in Jeralt's presence he realized something was off. When Irie said she wanted to leave for a couple years, just enough for Byleth to be raised by the two of them and not her mother, Jeralt didn't see any problem with that. 

Irie, unfortunately, saw great problems in what he deeded their 'escape method'. He wanted to hide Byleth in a tree and burn down the nursery. 

Irie had tutted at her husband, so full of good intentions and stupidity. That would cause more problems than worth. First of all, when they checked the nursery they'd find the Creststone missing (which would remain even if the child burned) so Rhea would remain unfooled which would lead to anger. If she so much as even let Irie leave. No, trying to trick Rhea was a pointless and dangerous endeavor. Irie had a different idea. Not necessarily better, but different. 

Just fucking walk out. Leave, just leave. So with all of her mortal possessions tucked in a bag under one arm and Byleth tucked under the other she walked right into Rhea's office, slammed down two resignations (one for her current position as bishop and the other for Jeralt's position as captain) and looked Rhea dead in the eyes. "I quit," she said simply in front of more people that Rhea could feasibly keep quiet should she try to stop Irie by force. If she could stop Irie by force that is.

Irie might be naive, but she sure as hell wasn't delicate. If they got into a fight Irie was turning into a dragon and flying away, Rhea and the church be damned. 

Baby Byleth was fairly content tucked under her mother's arm, quiet for the first time in days. Every moment in the monastery the child seemed miserable. Now that it seemed they were leaving Byleth finally calmed, as though she was aware of what was going on. What was Irie thinking, of course she was. The child in her arms cooed at her but wept and wailed whenever Rhea was in the room. It was obvious she understood, even without the explanation of Sothis. 

One of the first things her husband had said when he met baby Byleth? 'She looks like she's done this before and isn't happy to be back'. Jeralt might never know just how spot-on he was. 

Didn't matter though. Rhea, who'd kept her relationship with Irie a secret, could only watch in silent shock while the couple left the monastery. They left on foot and didn't dare stop, some unknown destination on Irie's mind. 

"How do we hide from her?" Jeralt asked as he trailed after his wife, now cradling both of their bags as Irie refused to let go of a much quieter Byleth. 

"We don't," Irie said simply. There was no need to hide from Rhea, just stay far enough away from her that she couldn't do anything without raising suspicions. She couldn't very well tell the current rulers of Fodlan what Byleth was, so there was no discreet way she could demand custody of the child without admitting Irie was her daughter. Which would open a different can of worms for Rhea. In addition, if she tried to kill Jeralt or Irie it would end... poorly. Irie had the sharpened senses of a dragon which made assassinations difficult and Jeralt was known as the most terrifying and renown warrior in all of Fodlan. Bandits would sooner jump off cliffs than willingly fight him.

If anything, staying in plain sight of Rhea might actually be the safer option. She kept an eye on the child and was deluded into thinking she had some degree of power. This kept her from really going off the deep edge in a rampage and also kept all ties with her from being cut. Just in case. Should the two disappear entirely it cut ties with Rhea and made her feel as though she had to look for them. 

Jeralt wasn't all too begrudging of Rhea. He thought her actions were a bit weird, but he still didn't have any reason to distrust her as he hadn't seen the insanity so plainly painted on her features. As far as he knew he was moving out of his overbearing mother-in-law's house so he could properly raise his child for a couple years. He might even expect them to eventually return, which will ultimately be a decision Irie leaves up to Byleth. It raised questions as to why his first instinct was to fake their deaths, but you know what, she knew this is the kind of shit she was signing up for when she married Jeralt. 

"So where exactly are we going?" 

"Remire Village. We'll stay there for a couple of moons while you get back in touch with your old mercenary buddies. The two of us have more than what it takes to start our own mercenary company, don't you think?" Irie turned to her husband with a smile that could chill the blood of lesser men. Even Jeralt, the bravest of the brave and the strongest of the strong, swallowed hard under a gaze like that. There was no room to argue. 

"I'll send out some letters as soon as we get there. A couple of buddies wouldn't mind tagging with us and once we got some jobs rolling in it'll only be a matter of time before the group gets larger," Jeralt said. Knowing his wife and her charms, recruitment wouldn't be that difficult. Especially if Byleth took after her mother. 

Remire was a bit out of the way, but it was a good village. They could easily set up a base of operations there, or at least something of the like. A small home they could return to between jobs, a place where Byleth could always return to when she got older in case she discovered fighting wasn't for her (which both Irie and Jeralt deeply doubted) or something happened to Jeralt and Irie. Jeralt supposed there could be worse hometowns for his daughter. Irie wouldn't be able to tell you for the life of her what drew her there. 

Some might call it Divine Intervention. Others fate. 

Byleth would call it banging her fist against her mother's book earlier that morning when the hero in the story she was reading to Byleth visited a little town based and named off of Remire Village. 


	3. Chapter 3

_12th of Red Wolf, Year 1159_

Irie couldn't help but giggle as her daughter made pretty little coos and all sorts of joyful noises. Jeralt was in the middle of finishing the rest of the packing, looking like there was something on his mind he wanted to talk about. Irie knew exactly what it was he wanted to say, so she ignored him for the time being. It was something they'd already been over multiple times within the last couple days and she fully intended to stand her ground. 

Hesitantly he tried approaching the topic one more time. He probably knew by now that this would be his last chance to convince Irie of his stand point. Tough luck that Irie wasn't budging, but to Jeralt it was well worth the try. "Are you sure you and Byleth wouldn't rather stay here?"

Ever since they left the monastery, Irie and Jeralt had been staying in a room at the Remire inn. Irie worked for the innkeeper as well as did various odd jobs around town to keep their room while Jeralt did his best to get in touch with as many old friends as he still could. Those who still had functioning bodies. The two demi-immortals couldn't quite say they had all that many living friends. But Jeralt had enough and had called on any who would answer. Including his old squire.

Alois was deeply loyal to Jeralt. Not to the Knights of Serios, but to Jeralt. So Alois followed the two to Remire after they left. After a long conversation full of colorful language from Irie the two had convinced Alois (unintentionally) that he should leave the Knights and join their company. His reasoning was that they needed a third person they knew they could trust to take care of Byleth. And you know what? He wasn't necessarily wrong. Alois was loud and a bit strange but Irie trusted him completely and he wasn't a bad fighter. She'd feel more comfortable handing Byleth off to him in a worst-case scenario than she would any of the old friends Jeralt could scrounge up that Irie didn't know all too well. Even Jeralt seemed more at ease with a idea. 

So it was agreed upon and a couple of days later Jeralt had tracked down the men and women necessary for a small mercenary party as well as a job a good way into Adrestian territory. A lower level noble who was having troubles with bandits so it seemed. Willing to take anyone if they were cheap. Jeralt didn't really want to work for cheap but better jobs required a bigger name and even the weight of Jeralt's wasn't enough to endorse a nameless merc company. 

So the Broken Blade Mercenary Company was born and given their first job. And Jeralt wanted her to stay in Remire? Irie didn't think so. Terrible idea. She still refused. 

"You know well enough how difficult it is keeping this room, darling. I have no intention of being separated from you, least of all when we don't even have a proper house to raise our child in. I'd sooner live in a tent with you than potentially end up on the street because work dried up," Irie was very dead set on not getting left behind. The savings Irie had taken when she left the monastery didn't last long. Even with Jeralt curbing his drinking habits and the two saving every coin they could, things were unreasonably tight. 

Not to mention, the pair were stronger as that. A pair. Being separated from Jeralt after already having left the monastery just generally made Irie feel uncomfortable. Unsafe. She'd feel safe going toe to toe with bandits as long as her husband was at her side. She'd feel better if she knew she at least had a tent a bow to hunt for meals rather than being stuck alone in some tiny town where she'd either have to leave her daughter alone for hours to work or suffer without enough money to feet them both. 

"Do you not think I'm strong enough?" The challenge in her voice was obvious. It was a dare. If he didn't think she was strong enough he could try to prove it. She'd knocked his ass to the ground once before and she could damn well do it again.

Jeralt held up his hands in a placating manner, flinching slightly. "It's not you I'm worried about," he said with an even heavier sigh. His gaze drifted towards the baby who had stopped cooing and was looking at her parents with curious eyes. 

"I can protect myself and Byleth," Irie said resolutely. It wasn't like she would be going on the missions. Not until Byleth was old enough to be left on her own or taught how to fight. Though all bets were off after that point. She plucked up Byleth, bringing the child into her arms. "You don't want to be separated from daddy either, do you, dear one?" She asked, running her pinky down Byleth's cheek. As though it had been commanded of her, Byleth began to whimper which turned into full-on crying. Little tears ran down crimson cheeks as the child wailed. 

Jeralt flinched, the sound of his daughter's distress more than enough to distress him as well. "Alright, alright, the two of you can come," he said in a tone that bordered on pleading. Just like that, the crying stopped. "I swear, sometimes she can understand us," Jeralt muttered as he watched the child go from blubbering to a small giggle as Irie pressed a kiss to Byleth's forehead. 

"That's because she can, darling. And obviously my dear heart doesn't want to be too far from you or I. So the both of us will go. I'm already aware of the ground rules, you've told them to me a million times by now. Stop fretting my beloved," Irie said. In a swishing of skirts, she brought herself closer to Jeralt who instinctively wrapped an arm around her waist. Byleth's little hands went up and attempted to pet her father's face while making a series of coos that sounded suspiciously like an attempt at words. 

Underdeveloped vocal cords and cognitive functions made it difficult to be sure if they were attempts or just baby babble. Retained memories or not, an underdeveloped brain was still an underdeveloped brain when it came to neurodevelopment of proper bodily moments and functions. Which is how the attempted pets turned into little baps as the child tried to brush her hands against Jeralt's face and failed for lack of finesse. 

It certainly wasn't going to be easy dragging around Byleth, but it admittedly would have been harder without Irie to watch her. Both parents could be grateful for the fact she was present and very much alive. Jeralt would never admit it out loud, but he himself was a bit worried about leaving his child and wife alone in a village he wasn't completely and utterly sold on. Irie was right the last time they'd talk about this. Her and Byleth coming along really was the lesser of two evils. Especially in Irie's mind, knowing full well what kind of power and reach Rhea had. 

Jeralt moved away from the pair, finishing up with the final bits of the packing. "Come on, if we want to make it on time we better get out on the road. The new crew is going to be meeting up with us on the way there, so for the first three days or so it's just going to be you, me, and Alois."

He tried not to make it audible, but it was fairly obvious he swallowed a groan at the end of that statement. Irie knew well enough that her husband wasn't fond of Alois' jokes or talkative nature. Irie would never openly admit it, but she actually had the same terrible sense of humor. Irie was going to laugh if Byleth had the terrible misfortune of inheriting it.

"I'm ready whenever you are," she said, pressing Byleth a little closer to her chest while Jeralt gathered their various bags. She wished they had something like a horse, but Jeralt ended up having to leave his horse behind at the monastery. An oversight on Irie's part, really. That would be one of the first things Irie started saving up for. A horse for her husband as well as perhaps some better gear. 

She missed her own pegasus almost as much as she missed the feeling of flying, but there wasn't time to go back now. There was no way to retrieve either beast. So Irie would make the most of what they had and try to eventually save up. Her husband was bad with money, but Irie liked to think she was pretty good with their funds. Eventually they'd get themselves some horses to make life easier. 

For now, they'd just have to take turns carrying their things while they walked.


	4. Chapter 4

_11th of Pegasus, Year 1161_

It was amazing the things that could happen in just a couple of years time. The company started to immediately get more acclaim in spite of Jeralt mostly keeping his title as the Blade Breaker on the down-low. The group got large, and it got large fast. Most mercenary groups stayed small for the first couple of years, struggling to get ahead of all the small miscellaneous companies that dotted the expanse of an ever-shifting Fodlan. But their mercenary company? There was something special about it that gave it a foot up on most of the other companies in Fodlan.

Irie liked to think it was herself. 

She possessed a relatively unique skill set that wasn't as common in your average mercenary. While most groups had their fair share of bishops and warlocks to keep things running smoothly, Irie was a gremory which was exceptionally rare in fighters for rent. On top of her all-around magical prestige, she was a quick draw with a bow and there were few creatures in the sky more terrifying if you put her on a pegasus. Her own nature behind the human appearance made it a bit difficult for her handle riding wyverns though. That being said, her other form greatly made up for it. If she ever decided to use it, which she likely wouldn't unless she absolutely had to.

The stir it would cause for a dragon to suddenly appear, looking similar though not identical to The Immaculate One. 

The madness that would come from her appearing in dragon form. She shivered just thinking about it. 

There was also the question as to if she _could_ still transform. She didn't know if the Crest Stone was required for her own transformation, or if a crest was even required. She wasn't certain as to if she still even possessed a crest without the Crest stone existing within her own chest. There was the chance it had been passed to Byleth along with the stone. There was also the question of if Byleth would one day be able to transform considering the fact she was technically half Nabatean since Irie herself was full Nabatean. Even with the unconventional nature of her birth, she was Rhea's daughter and it showed. 

She even had the pointed ears and partially green hair to prove it.

Byleth didn't have green hair or pointy ears but Irie didn't know if that was a clear indicator one way or the other. She didn't look like a Nabatean, but she was also still a child and Irie herself had watched the hair of children go from golden to brown or brown to red within years. Byleth was still young and small. Delicate like a little flower and as changeable as a breeze. There was no telling what kind of creature she'd become. What majesty she could one-day posses. 

Irie had to admit... she kind of hoped that Byleth became more Nabatean like. It was a guilty desire, but one day she wanted to take Byleth flying the same way Rhea had done when Irie was younger. It was one of her fonder memories. They'd taken a trip out to a remote part of Fodlan to meet up with some nobles, the likes of which Irie couldn't remember. Before meeting Jeralt she'd been exceptionally bad at remembering the names and lines of nobility, but now at least one of them had to be able to. Lest her husband accidentally stroll up to a king and casually challenge him to a drinking contest.

She wouldn't put it past him or other members of the company. 

The memory of her first flight was one of the few that wasn't tainted the longer Irie lingered on the way Rhea had acted before she and Jeralt left. Rhea had taken her aside, having taught her how to transform a while ago. The two had both transformed and Rhea had taught Irie how to fly. It had been... well, it was still one of her best memories of Rhea for a reason. Feeling her wingtips brush against those of her mother while she saw the expanse of snow far below her. To see the world through the eyes of a dragon, to feel so much love and adoration for it. The flight had ended too quickly, but it was still one of the few memories Irie went back to when things got tough and life tasted bitter. She'd hold Byleth close and coo to her how one day they'd fly together.

Irie didn't know if she could still transform. She didn't know if Byleth would ever be able to transform.

But she intended to keep that promise. 

There were more ways to take flight than on a dragon's wings. 

Like on a pegasus for one. Irie still missed her pegasus who she had to leave behind. It wasn't all too deep an attachment since she'd never given the poor thing a proper name and it more so belonged to one of the knights, but Irie missed being able to fly one way or another. She'd lost count of how many times she'd thought about sneaking off to try and transform for the sake of a midnight flight. 

Now she was genuinely starting to think she'd have to transform and fly for an entirely different set of reasons. 

Jeralt was the one with a good sense of direction. Not Irie. It wasn't her fault she'd gotten lost on the way to a nearby town to try and stock up on supplies. It was usually Jeralt's job, but he'd been dealing with a particularly huffy noble for the last couple of days which left Irie to fend for herself, her daughter, and the rest of the camp which was slowly running out of edibles. The boys hunted, sure, but in the middle of the Pegasus Moon it was always cold and hard to find any good game which could feed a company their size. 

The company had gotten shockingly large between them first leaving and now. Irie, again, liked to think it was her unique skillset at work. She was good at batting her eyelashes and making people think things were a good idea. And when all else failed, she was also good at blackmail.

Ugh.

Maybe she was more similar to Rhea than she first thought.

That didn't really matter though since it never really came to blackmail. Most of the people she picked up off the street were starving children with a little promise as fighters, a slight glimmer of skill that could be honed. Disowned children or children with families that were too large to care for them. Irie said children but the majority of the adoptees were between the ages of 18 and 22. Admittedly to Irie and Jeralt that was still young enough to be considered a child. Either way she plucked them off the street, parsed out their natural talents, and a couple of harsh moons of instruction was enough to get another loyal fighter with the skills to do the Eisner name proud. 

Unfortunately, those were all mouths that still needed to be fed. Irie was good at handling money and doing the cooking to keep things in order. She could spread ingredients into multiple satisfying meals. There was still only so much she could do with two pheasants and a handful of berries. Luckily money wasn't a problem as long as she kept her husband's tabs in check, so she'd taken a bag of coins and Byleth and run along to the nearest town which was only down the road. 

Then Irie lost sight of the road. Could you blame her? There had to be 3 feet of snow on the ground and there were no track for her to follow! So she just kept ambling along, looking for whatever seemed like a road and apparently she'd been very, very wrong. 

She wasn't necessarily worried. Again, she was technically a dragon god. Or at the very least related to one. More than anything it was agitating. She was cold and while Byleth was being quiet she could occasionally hear the disgruntled whimper of a child that was hungry and chilled, which pissed her off and made her contemplate if fighting the weather itself was an option. How dare it make her child cold! The audacity! 

Alas, regardless of how agitated Irie grew she knew that if she wanted out of this situation it was best to first apply logic before she turned into a dragon and started trying to breathe fire at the sky for daring to snow. 

She found a relatively safe and snowless looking clearing and put down a blanket on a disregarded stump after swiping off the snow. She then, like any logical dragon mother, put her child on that stump and did her best to start a fire nearby it while keeping said fire far enough away from the stump that it wouldn't catch on fire. "I'll be right back my precious one. I'm just going to try and get up somewhere higher so I can get eyes on which direction we should be going," she told the child.

Byleth looked at her like she was stupid. Irie felt the stupider thing would by flying up into the sky with her child, so Byleth could sit there and be patient for all of five minutes while Irie figured out if she even remembered how to fly. Let alone if she could transform.

Irie moved far enough away from the child that she wouldn't risk causing Byleth injury if she could transform. Irie took a deep breath, drawing forth the power that began to churn in her veins. Her eyes narrowed in a draconic fashion as she called upon the ancient magics she knew so well. Skin turned to scale, nails to claws. Before her eyes appeared a crest. She was used to it being the Crest of Flames. This wasn't it though. It was a crest she didn't have a name for, one that wasn't in any of the scriptures or Rhea's lessons. Was this... her crest? Free from Sothis, free from the Crest Stone, did she have her own crest? 

The second thing Irie noticed as the sensation of her transformation died down and she stood on four legs instead of two was the fact her dragon form looked different. She'd originally been fairly similar to Rhea. She still was. But her scales seemed to shimmer in a way that was almost crystalline while Rhea had always looked silver. There were also accentuations of golds and red at various points in her body. Not to mention her form was overall sleeker, her figure less muscular though still as strong and her horns more elegant in shape. 

So that answered one question. She could still transform. But could she still fly?

While she, in theory, could have stood there marveling at her dragon form for hours she worked up the energy to spread her wings and start pulling herself into the air. She was... out of practice to put it kindly. It took phenomenal amounts of effort to actually start pulling herself up into the air. 10 feet and she was already struggling. It wasn't like she'd gotten fat. She weighed as much as she did before she gave birth to Byleth, she'd even checked periodically. Her wings didn't seem to want to beat at the right pattern though.

Perhaps it was this new form. It didn't quite feel right. Her wings were longer and required more effort to beat, but she also thought she might be trying to beat them too quickly. She was used to the quick pump of her wings in her attempts to quickly bring her into the sky. This just felt wrong. She was too focused on the flapping of her own wings to even take a proper look around her, just trying to keep the air in her lungs as she put in the colossal effort to stay airborne on unfamiliar limbs. 

Eventually, she gave up, gliding back to the ground gracelessly and allowing her body to return to its humanoid form. 

If she ever wanted to take Byleth flying she'd need to practice herself first. Especially if Byleth inherited this... strange form. She still had a lot of questions regarding this apparent new crest which had manifested in the absence of the Crest of Flames, but she was a mother and her mother senses were tingling. 

She quickly turned on her heels and made her way back to where she had left Byleth with the intent of retrieving her child and rethinking her strategy. She froze the moment she entered the clearing. 

Standing over her daughter, what would Irie find? A pegasus. Of all things... a pegasus? Byleth was cooing at the creature as though she was trying to speak. The pegasus didn't seem hostile or even so much as a danger to Byleth. If anything, its posture came off as protective. Byleth babbled a couple of words in nondescript order as she was getting to be about that age where language developed. The pegasus just whickered as though it had completely understood her, pressing its snout into a tiny hand which reached out for the winged creature.

Hesitantly Irie took a step forward. She made some kind of noise, be it a branch cracking or brushing against a leaf, and the pegasus' gaze shot upwards to meet her. It stamped a hoof and whickered at her now. Byleth released another series of babbles as though she was actually holding a conversation with the pegasus. The pegasus responded in turn as though it also though they were having a genuine conversation. 

It approached Irie hesitantly, head lowered and wings spread. It slowly sniffed at Irie, looking at her through cautious eyes. Eventually it stepped back, threw its head about, and snorted. It returned to Byleth, pressing its nose into her shoulder. Byleth actually giggled, a noise that was notably rare.

Irie felt about as cautious as the pegasus did as she approached the pegasus and her child. She slowly picked up her child, the pegasus just watching her. 

After Byleth was safely in Irie's arms once more the pegasus lowered itself down. The movement was familiar to Irie. The pegasus was presenting itself to be ridden. Hesitantly, Irie moved to the pegasus' side and began to pull herself on to the creature. It didn't respond negatively. 

When Irie was safely on the pegasus, one arm holding Byleth to her and the other with its fingers wrapped into the creature's mane, the pegasus finally took off. It didn't need to be directed or asked where to go. It simply started a direction and no more than 5 minutes later a town came into sight. Perhaps their dinner was not lost after all. There would be the question of getting back, but Irie would perhaps be a little smarter and pay a guide. She'd brought extra coin. 

The pegasus landed outside of town and Irie pulled herself off of it. Instead of flying away like she expected, the pegasus folded its legs under itself and seemed to hunker down. "Are you going to wait for us?" Irie asked the pegasus as though it would respond. It almost seemed as though it did, looking up at her and chuffing. 

"Are... are you ours now?" She asked, all the more confused. Byleth gave a strange high pitched noise and pegasus just flicked its ear. "Very well... Astrala. We'll see you after the shopping is done." She figured the creature needed a name if it had essentially forced adoption on Irie. 

She couldn't even tell if it was bred or wild. It looked well kept, but at the same time, it had a lot of the physical quirks one might expect of a wild pegasus. In particular the exceptionally white coat. Bred pegasi tended to have duller coats with less luster due to being bred for the most desirable combative traits. Show pegasi were of a lighter cover, but never the same brilliant white as a wild pegasus. Wild pegasi tended to be a bit frailer in a fight, but generally, they were more beautiful and overall healthier with fewer health complications that could arise in part because of selective breeding. 

Irie wouldn't be able to explain what happened when she eventually got home, returning on the back of Astrala who would still refuse to leave. 

There were something Irie will never be able to fully understand. 

Those things would usually begin and end with Byleth. 

"Wait, honey, don't climb on her!" 


	5. Chapter 5

_7th of Great Tree, Year 1164_

If there was one thing every member of the Eisner family could agree on without a fraction of a doubt, it was their shared hatred for dealing with lesser nobles. Not nobles in general, but specifically the ones that could be defined as 'lesser'. The ones who strutted around like royalty because they had something to prove. The ones who stomped their feet and demanded you bow down and give them their way with little to no resistance. There wasn't a single member of the extended Eisner family who didn't completely despise dealing with lesser nobles.

Jeralt tended to hate it because he was the one who had to deal with them the most. As the official leader of the company, he was the one who settled jobs and spoke with clients. Even if he wasn't really one to be doing the background work to keep the company afloat, he was the face of the company. The face that got yelled at and talked down to by every blue blooded bastard who thought themselves better for being born into a specific family.

Irie hated them for multiple reasons. The first of which being that they used crests as a means for their superiority, which deeply went against Irie's mentality. In her eyes, the crests weren't even gifted by the Goddess. If anything they were stolen from her and her children. If the only thing lesser nobles could tote around and preen over was their crests and their lesser noble status, then technically Byleth outranked them all for having a Major Crest of Flames, the blood of Serios, and a connection to the Archbishop. For all Irie knew, Byleth would inherit Irie's crest as well and then she'd have two crests. Her daughter was better than their snot nosed little shits who looked down on her family because they could.

Even Alois, who'd in the span of 4 years taken on the last name Esiner and started calling himself uncle Alois, didn't much fancy dealing with nobles. Though it was for a dramatically different reason than Irie and Jeralt. Alois was good humored and good natured to a fault. He couldn't begrudge someone regardless of most circumstances. That being said, getting yelled at or looked down upon every time you make what you think to be a cunning joke eventually starts to drag on your opinion of a group. 

Of course, out of the entire Eisner family, the one who hated lesser nobles and the system of nobility as a whole with a fiery passion was of course the young Byleth. Barely four years in age but plagued with knowledge far beyond those four years, Byleth had a laundry list of reasons to hate the current political structure. Out of the entire Eisner family she was probably the one who'd gotten fucked over by it the worst. Not because it directly hurt her, but because of how many people she loved were bound to die because of it. She'd come to acknowledge Edelgard's war as a necessary one if not blood and horrific. 

That's why Byleth had a job to do. 

At four years old she clung to her mother who was trailing along after her father who was having his ear practically chewed off by some uppity noble. The noble in question was a man known as... Byleth hadn't actually caught his name. She didn't care what it was, as far as Byleth cared his name was von Dickass and Byleth had come to realize no more than 10 minutes after entering the manor that she had a score to settle with him that bordered on personal. And her mother was gonna help her do it. 

Byleth hadn't actually talked to her mother about it, but it was gonna happen because Irie physically couldn't say no to Byleth. It was actually a little funny to watch her try. 

Jeralt sighed heavily as the noble said something about stepping into another room and discussing the finer details of the deal. Just helping along a trade caravan between here and the von Essar household. "Irie, you and Byleth can stay here and wait. It shouldn't take me long," he said, sparing his girls from listening to the noble drone on and on about how he used to be so great and powerful and only if one of his children had borne a crest but his repugnant mistake of a wife couldn't so much as bear him one despite having such great potential. Bleugh.

Byleth was grateful the two were leaving. If she had to listen for much long she was either going to strangle him or gag, and she wasn't sure which would have been frowned upon by society more. 

She watched the man leave with her father and then watched as her mother's posture sagged slightly with relief as soon as the two were out of the room. They'd been left in a sitting room of some kind, filled with more wealth than Byleth was physically comfortable with. Irie took one of the lavish seats with a good deal of caution as though her draconian presence along might break something 'precious'. Byleth didn't sit down quite yet, standing and inspecting the various pieces within the room, but keeping her attention on two maids who were just outside the door gossiping. 

"I fear that the fair Lady won't last another year," one of them said, fake mourning in her tone. She didn't actually care, that was obvious enough by how readily she dismissed it with a shrug. 

The other tutted quietly. "I don't think her heart could take another birth. Nor her body. If she attempts then she'll surely miscarry. Though I suppose it is her fault for being unable to bear an heir with a crest. Such is the way of life for those nobles," the two giggled between each other for a minute. Careless and spiteful towards the upper class, resentment dripping from cruel words. Did they even understand what they were saying? Byleth felt her stomach churn a second time.

"A shame. I heard that she used to be quite close to her brother. He'll surely mourn. What was their family name, von Essar? I hear that he's deep into the studying crests right now, shame he won't be able to save his sister." The two giggled back and forth for a couple of minutes longer, talking about their sick mistress and various this or thats going on around the manor. Byleth was starting to get annoyed and contemplated striking out on her own before she finally heard one of the maids say "I suppose I should go check on her and make sure she's still with us."

The two maids parted and without the notice of mother or maids, Byleth slipped out the door and followed the maid who had declared her intention. 

Except she thought she got free of her mother's notice. No more than ten steps after the maid she felt a hand on her shoulder. "Where exactly are you going little one?" Irie asked, twisting Byleth slightly to face her. Damn those draconian senses, Irie was more perceptive than even Rhea. And that was coming from a girl who'd once watched Rhea notice and immediately decimate a master assassin that once tried to come for Byleth after she'd become queen in a reset long gone. Something told Byleth that a Divine Pulse or two wasn't going to be enough to escape her mother unnoticed. She was going to lose that maid if she dawdled too long!

"To save someone," Byleth said resolutely before ripping herself away from her mother's grasp to try and follow the maid. Byleth expected to be picked up and/or forcibly brought back to the sitting room. Irie followed Byleth. Irie, however, didn't try to pick up or change the direction of Byleth. Instead, Irie moved to walk in front of Byleth as though leading her daughter after the maid. "What are you doing?" 

"Child, we're in this together. You should understand that much by now," Irie said dismissively as though that explained everything and they were just going to roll with the punches. 

Apparently they were just going to roll with the punches. Irie stopped a little ways away when the maid halted her stride and entered a nearby room. Two more servants were coming down the hall, and the way they were moving made Byleth uncomfortable. They'd probably be questioned. Irie turned on her heels without pause and dropped down to eye level with Byleth. "Hold still for a moment little one," she muttered before more loudly announcing "let me fix you up. Can't have you looking slovenly before the Lord." Irie futzed with random bits and bobs on the front of Byleth blouse, messing with strands of hair that didn't want to stay in place, pretending to fix things on the daughter who earlier that day Irie had called 'perfect the way she is and that lord can eat a cactus if he doesn't like it.'

When the two servants were finally far enough away that they wouldn't notice the pair Irie stood back up. Both were very aware of the fact Irie hadn't actually fixed anything.

As though right on que the maid who'd gone into the room left that room and started to head the opposite direction of Byleth and Irie. Irie paused before pushing Byleth forward and heading for the room. Byleth ended up squeezing in first with Irie fairly close on her heels.

The room the two found themselves in wasn't extravagant by any means. It was plain but still spacious and beautiful. Obviously intended for someone of 'proper noble breeding' though not meant to look ostentatious the way most nobles preferred their rooms to be. It was the kind of room that neither Byleth or Irie would mind living in if they had to be nobles for a day. In the center of the room was a very large bed with a canopy draped over it. Through the sheer fabric, the pair could see a woman resting. 

The woman roused slightly, turning to the pair with a look of confusion. "Hello?" She asked, voice sounding weak. She only turned her head, not quite sitting up. 

Her hair was a beautiful shade a blonde that was already starting to streak with grey despite the girl only looking to be in her mid-20s at most. 25ish if Byleth hedged a bet. Her eyes were a shade of blue that practically screamed in their resemblance to Hanneman. Yes, Byleth was certain, this had to be her co-professor's younger sister. The one who died of heart failure after having given birth to too many children, more than any woman should have to against her will. Not to-fucking-day. 

"Lady Chanel von Essar?" Byleth asked hesitantly. Chanel seemed to start slightly at hearing her full name. The name she was forced to abandon after marrying her husband. 

"I- yes? What do the two of you want?" She asked, her gaze jumping between Byleth who inched closer and Irie who stood like a silent sentinel. Irie shook her head and lowered it slightly, flicking her gaze at Byleth. This was Byleth decision and Byleth's job meaning Byleth who seemingly knew more would be doing the talking.

Byleth didn't talk like a typical four-year-old. Hence was she just generally stuck to not talking around most people. Which wasn't hard, she had some emotions but she still acted like the same Byleth from so many resets ago who deadpanned and asked Edelgard the definition of a 'joke' because she couldn't understand why one of the things she'd said sounded like one. In a situation like this, she had no problem finding the words to speak. 

And most certainly, Byleth talked. "My Lady, are you aware that with how things are now you're going to die? Very soon. Specifically on the 8th of Wyvern Moon next year after miscarrying your final child." Byleth asked. Chanel looked terrified for a second before registering that it was a statement and not a threat. The way Byleth delivered it, one would almost assume that a messenger of death had appeared to give warning. Which wasn't so far from the truth. Just switch death with Goddess and you were good to go. 

"Are you fortune tellers? Here to remind me of the inevitable? If I even survive another child then, yes, a different part of my body will give out and I'll eventually die. The doctors say I already have heart problems. It's inevitable, I don't need to be reminded," she said, seemingly having given up on life. Byleth felt a sharp pain in her own chest. She'd never have heart problems as she didn't possess a heart which beat.

"Do you want to see your brother again?" Byleth asked. Chanel looked at her like she was crazy but nodded nonetheless. Byleth smiled. "The doctors here are well and good but they'd got nothing on my mother and I. Come with us. We'll heal you so that you can live a full life, and you'll finally be free. All you have to do is let us fake your death." The resigned look in Chanel's eyes made Byleth want to fight all that much harder. She hated seeing people give up. If someone dared to give up, she'd just have to fight for them. 

"Fake my... I don't know." Chanel looked to the side. Given the way she hadn't sit up yet, she didn't even possess the strength for that. What a miserable existence, nothing more than a breeding cow for the potential of a crest.

"What else are you going to do? What else can you do? You'll just die if you stay here. And that death is going to be entirely meaningless. What exactly do you have to lose?" Byleth asked, inching a little closer. Other than a couple of months of life that would probably be cut short anyway by one terrible even or another, there was nothing left for her here. 

Chanel turned away for a moment, contemplating the offer. "And what will you do with me afterward? It's not like you could take me back to my family. I have an older brother, but he couldn't take care of me. He'll have to be tricked too. What good would faking my death actually do?"

Byleth's gaze softened. She closed the rest of the distance between herself and the bed so she could reach through the veil and grab Chanel's hand. "Now? Limited good. But Fodlan is about to change. And when it does change, you'll be free to pick and chose how you want to live your life. We aren't going to 'do' anything with you. You can disappear to never be seen again or you can stay with us. We're a mercenary band, but there are always things that need help being done around camp. Cooking, cleaning, laundry. Enough work to earn your meals and a place to sleep. It wouldn't be luxury like a noble is used to, but it's better than whatever this is."

Chanel turned back to Byleth. A child. Barely four years old. Speaking as though she'd seen the world twice over and knew it's tricks. Here this child stood making promises Chanel didn't know if she could keep. But the point was valid. What did she possibly have to even lose? "Fine, do what you must." The barest hint of a smile slipped onto the motionless expression of the girl as she pushed the rest of her body past the canopy and pressed both hands onto Chanel's chest. "How exactly are you even going to fake my death?"

Byleth's smile grew all the wider. It would have been unnerving if it wasn't remarkably gentle. "Simple. You're just going to go to sleep for a little while," Byleth said, pressing her palms down a little firmer. Chanel's eyes instantly began to droop as a green glow seeped from Byleth's palms and into her chest, her body stilling until it seemed as though she was a lifeless statue, slowly growing cold under Byleth's fingertips. All bodily function just seemed to inexplicably stop. 

"What did you actually do?" Irie asked as Byleth returned to her mother's side and began rushing the both of them out of the room after checking if the coast was clear. 

"She's just sleeping. A very special kind of sleep that... a friend once had to put me into," Byleth said, remembering her 5-year long nap none too fondly. The point of that had been to essentially put her body into stasis while the magic of the goddess had the time to knit her flesh back together. It had taken 5 years because not only were the injuries intense, but Sothis had relinquished control over their shared abilities. Meaning that the healing process was reliant on Byleth subconsciously using the abilities herself. 

Byleth didn't have much control or diversity in her godly arsenal back then. She didn't have a teacher or any dedicated time to practice. She had two abilities essentially, divine pulse and heal. After her little nap, she spent more time dedicated to practicing, but she could only really practice what she knew since she didn't want to risk the catastrophic damage that might come from experimentation with abilities she didn't fully understand. She had an easier time taking to it being Nabatean on her mother's side and not quite completely human anymore on her father's side, but it was still a bit of a hassle. Byleth wasn't necessarily a mortal when she'd been born, but she wasn't born a full god either like Rhea had been. 

She didn't actually start getting into the swing of things until after she'd gotten through the war and Sothis had just woken up because of how much Byleth missed her. It was silly and cliche but it didn't matter because she had her best friend/sister back and Sothis had managed to recover enough of her memories that she could properly tutor Byleth in their shared abilities. 

Byleth liked to think she was a god. She wasn't some all-powerful divine, but no god ever was. Byleth was still just Byleth just as Sothis was still Sothis. But Byleth had powerful magic and connection to the world on a level others might not. An understanding which came with the powers to shape things. She wasn't The Progenitor God. She wasn't strong enough to claim that title just yet. But one day she might be. Sothis had already made her expectations that Byleth one day replace her quite clear. 

Irie took Byleth's hand and the two returned to the sitting room they'd originally been in. A couple of divine pulses had to be used to properly avoid any detection, but not enough to warrant concern. Eventually the noble and her father returned. Jeralt was still enduring whatever the noble was babbling about, obviously something unpleasant, when a cry went up.

"Oh my Lord! Your wife, she's passed!" A maid cried out, rushing into the room with eyes full of fake tears and a voice that warbled with a corny wail. The liar. 

The Lord made a displeased face. Not one that suggested he was mournful. Not even quite angry. Just displeased, as though someone had put the wrong meal in front of him before dinner. Not even a drastic mistake either. Like someone mixed up what kind of meat was supposed to go in the stew. It was something you'd live with but you'd be mildly displeased for the first 10 seconds before moving on and eating. "That is quite the shame," he said. He didn't make it sound like it was one.

"My lord," Irie cut in, "the lady is a von Essar correct? That is where we're contracted to be taking the caravans, correct? Perhaps you might have us take your wife to her family so they can properly say goodbye?" 

Byleth loved her mother. 

The Lord wrinkled his nose but eventually nodded. "Yes, I suppose they can deal with her funeral," he said, as though it was some kind of menial chore he didn't want to do. Burying your wife was not equivalent to mucking out the stables, sir. Nonetheless, Irie nodded her head dutifully. The lord, however, made it clear that they would not be getting paid extra for the task. Which was fine, since it was a task that would technically never be completed. 

"Load her into one of the merchant's loads. You and your company should get on the road quickly if you want to make good time."

As that was obviously a polite way of saying get the fuck out, the Eisner family very quickly took it's leave, Irie making sure to go with one of the maids to have the body 'loaded up properly'. It was understood between Byleth and Irie that what she meant was putting the sleeping Chanel in one of the merchant vessels before quickly switching it to one of the carts belonging to their own company. 

Later along the road when the company got attacked because of course they would, it was very easy to simply claim the body had gotten lost during the scuffle. Possibly burned with the corpses of the bandits on accident. No would blame or question the mercenaries since no one could be bothered to care outside of those who wouldn't even know about Chanel's supposed death until a much later date and would never hear anything of the company guarding the merchants. Only about the merchants who lost the corpse. 

Later Jeralt, resigned to his fate, wouldn't question it when Irie and Alois started introducing him to his new sister Chanel Eisner. He'd be confused and grumpy, but he'd welcome this new addition. 

As long as she changed up her appearance a little and dyed her fucking hair. Seriously, who taught Irie anything about disguises?


	6. Chapter 6

_23rd of Harpstring, Year 1165_

Jeralt knew his family was strange. He knew it the first time he realized Irie had pointed ears. He knew it when all of his in-laws seemingly didn't age and had green hair. He knew it when Rhea gave him some of her blood to save his life and he stopped aging altogether before suspiciously interesting a Crest of Seiros. His family was strange. His wife especially was odd.

She liked to pick up people off the street and bring them into the company. Which made sense. They needed to bolster the company and in some cases, it was easier to pick up someone off the street and train them yourself than it was to try and pick from the rabble who eventually wandered your direction. His wife had a good eye and the pair of them made amazing teachers. With the additional help of Alois, his wife had a 100% success rate when it came to picking new members who could be trained up and made proper mercs. 

Her, what could only be described as 'Family Fever', was a little bit stranger. She'd always told Jeralt she wanted a large family like her mother used to have. Something with lots of members who all worked together and took care of one another. Jeralt had been okay with this, taking it as Irie eventually wanting lots of kids. Which initially Jeralt didn't have a problem with. For multiple reasons which wouldn't be listed.

After Byleth's birth Jeralt had quite decisively decided he didn't want more kids. 

Irie, however, still wanted more family. Which is why she turned to adoption. First it was Alois who she started calling their 'little brother'. Byleth quickly picked up on this and started to refer to the man as 'uncle Alois' which was fine. Alois already was a lot like a younger brother to Jeralt. That was fine. That made sense. 

Chanel was a bit weirder. Jeralt wasn't a moron. He'd never seen the Lady Chanel von Essar but they hadn't really gone to great lengths when it came to changing her appearance. She didn't even change her name, aside from going by the nickname Coco in public. At one point he pulled Irie aside for an explanation as to why they'd essentially kidnaped the wife of a lord who was as far as Jeralt knew supposed to be dead. Irie explained the situation very carefully, and to be completely honest Jeralt felt a little bad for the girl. From what he'd heard she'd had it rough. One pregnancy had almost killed his own wife, and the Lord had put her through how many? One for every year they'd been married, which according to Byleth, Chanel had been married off to that lord at the age of 16. 

Wasn't that supposed to be illegal?

If it wasn't than it should be. Either way, apparently Chanel was approaching her 25th birthday by the time Byleth and Irie got it in their terrifying little heads to stage her death. Just a normal mother-daughter bonding activity. Either way, Jeralt though that was too many children. 

The icing on the cake was the fact that they discovered about a week or two after getting the fuck out of dodge as quickly as possible, Chanel was actually pregnant. Again. It was enough to make Jeralt sick. Given the way she'd been treated up until that point it was obvious that the child probably wouldn't have survived the birth. According to a lot of the bishops and Irie herself, given the way she was being treated she probably would have died to heart conditions not long after that. 

The real kicker happened when Chanel gave birth. It was rough. Nearly as rough as when Irie gave birth, according to Irie herself. All the bishops in the camp were up in arms while Irie did her best to play midwife and Byleth (according to what the bishops said) sat there in the corner. Whether her looming was ominous or comforting varied from person to person, with the younger recruits tending to border on ominous while those who'd been apart of the mercenary company long enough to vaguely understand Byleth somehow took her presence as a good sign? Like good luck almost? Jeralt didn't understand.

Chanel and the babe were both ultimately able to survive the birth in major parts because Irie was there barking out orders and kicking anyone out of the tent who didn't move fast enough. The baby, to Jeralt's horror and ironic delight, was born was a Major Crest of Indech. The baby, who would have died because of how her husband had been treating Chanel over the fact she wouldn't bear a child with a crest, was born with a major fucking crest. 

Jeralt had felt the urge to kill nobles on many occasions, but never would he have felt more justified if he had gone back up to von Assweed and knocked his head off of his shoulders. Said child was then given the last name Eisner. Chanel didn't want the child's name to have anything to do with nobles, but in her own words, a random last name wouldn't have fit. Much like she dawned the Eisner name at Irie's prodding and calling her a new family member, the child was given the same treatment. 

When baby Han'ith was born early in the Guardian Moon of 1165, Jeralt told himself he wasn't going to like her one bit. The old good child was his child, and even Byleth had been a pain as a baby. But Han as Byleth had taken to calling her was quiet and sweet. 

So Byleth had a cousin and Jeralt had a niece. His family was weird, especially his wife who so far had been the focal point for creating this chaotic hodgepodge of people. 

That being said, Byleth was by far weirder. 

Where Irie's actions, for the most part, were at least predictable Byleth's just weren't. It felt like handling a ticking time bomb sometimes. He didn't know if he was going to wake up and she was going to be her own definition of normal or if she was suddenly going to explode into something identical to her mother and start wreaking havoc, tearing apart Fodlan piece by piece.

His wife certainly seemed to think so. 

Every day she would look Byleth over as though checking for something. It would look just like any mother normally taking care of her five-year-old if Irie wasn't so throughout about some things. 

It always started with Byleth's hair. Irie would brush it meticulously, combing over the entire length strip by strip. She'd always look at the ends and the roots with an unsettling amount of concentration. Inspecting the color for the slightest difference in pigmentation, as though believing it would one day become more like her own. Jeralt was still confused as to how Irie's hair could be natural, but he just choked it up to weird magic voodoo. Given how religious her half of the family was, he wouldn't actually be shocked if it was strange goddess magic that allowed her hair to naturally be two different colors. 

Next, she'd move on to the teeth. Jeralt actually broke out into a cold sweat when he legitimately heard his wife say "Oh my, your canines are getting a bit long. We'll have to deal with that when your adult teeth start growing in." Jeralt didn't know what in the fuck that meant and he was scared to know if him jokingly calling his mother in law a 'Dragon' had been terrifyingly more literal than he'd like. Goddess, please, if he had one wish let his wife and his daughter not be dragons. Almost anything but dragons. 

Third thing Irie would always check were Byleth ears. Which to Irie's credit had slowly been changing. Which seemed to mystify all parties involved, including Byleth who rarely seemed shocked by anything. The points had slowly begun to taper in a manner similar to her mother's. Byleth had spent a long hour spacing out into the endless void after the discovery had been made and came back to the world looking no less confused. 

The final thing Irie did every day was checking Byleth's nails, clipping them if necessary. Occasionally they'd start to look more like claws without seemingly constant maintenance. 

Irie was weird, but Byleth was weirder. 

Byleth who was currently running up to him with something held behind her back. The last time she'd done this it had been a dagger and she'd begged him to teach her. Jeralt was planning on putting off combat training for as long as possible but it seemed both Byleth and Irie were having none of that. 

"Papa, lean down," she said with her almost perpetually neutral expression. It wasn't quite blank, not exactly. But it wasn't any one emotion either. it was too soft to be completely blank. It was a bit like the perfect poker face. Jeralt hesitantly did as commanded and Byleth placed something atop his head. "Mama taught me how to make flower crowns," she said and then began walking away as though that was a reasonable explanation. Atop his brow sat a tightly woven crown of wildflowers. 

Jeralt's family was weird, but truly, he loved his family without question. 

And regardless of the hoots and hollers from his fellow mercenaries, he was never taking this flower crown off. 


	7. Chapter 7

_19th of Wyvern, Year 1165_

A normal family bonding exercise would be going to a park or an opera show, anything simple and safe really. The Eisners were not a normal family. Between the multiple new members that had suddenly appeared at the behest of Irie and Byleth and the fact neither one was exactly all that human, they weren't a normal family. Not that Jeralt really needed to know that second part. That's why for this little outing, Jeralt was decidedly not invited. 

Yes, normal family bonding activities involved small gentle things like going to nice dinners and getting to know your child and partner. Not climbing up a godforsaken mountain for the sole purpose of fighting a wyvern. She couldn't say the logic was even all that sound, but Byleth made puppy dog eyes at Irie and Irie said okay. Irie said, okay, let's climb up this death mountain so that she could fight a wyvern to the death and bring it back home as a mount for Byleth. Why? Because buying a wyvern was too expensive and if beating a wyvern was too hard it was the Wyvern Moon! They could just steal an egg! As though that was any easier.

Irie had left Jeralt at home for a number of reasons. A big one being she didn't think he would approve of these activities. To call wyvern taming dangerous was something of an understatement. Not to mention Irie knew she would lose if she tried to fight a wyvern as a human. Meaning she was damn well going to turn into her dragon form, slam one into the ground, and bend it to her daughter's will.

Why?

Because Byleth asked her to. 

What more reason did she need? 

So against Irie's better judgment, she took her very young 6-year-old up a giant mountain where wyverns lived so she could battle one to the death for the sake of making it loyal to her and by extension her family. When Byleth was finally old enough to actually fight things regularly she was going to be a terrifying force to be reckoned with, that was for sure. 

Irie was currently in her dragon form since it was safer for both her and her daughter. Between getting Astrala and this request Irie had found plenty of time to go off on her own and practice flying. Really, the biggest difficulty was just making sure no one saw her. It had taken some time to get used to her own body again, but she'd gotten there and she liked to think she was about as skilled as she used to be. At flying. Problem was that mommy dearest never had the forethought to teach Irie how to fight. Rhea probably hadn't seen any reason for Irie to ever need to know such a thing. 

Who needed to know how to use your own breath weapon when the monastery was swarming with knights. She was supposed to live a nice, shelter life. 

And yet here she was. 

About to engage a giant white wyvern in single combat. 

Fuck her sidewise, Irie was starting to feel like she'd made a mistake. 

Byleth was sitting on a rock, looking entirely relaxed. "It's okay, I'll just use Divine Pulse if you lose," her child said, holding two thumbs up as though she could abuse time as she pleased. Maybe she could, Irie didn't fucking know. All she knew is that Byleth had asked her to fight a wyvern and she honestly wasn't okay with this. What was she doing with her life??? Why couldn't Byleth wait another ten years and fight the thing herself? Oh, right, Irie knew why. It was because Irie herself would sooner jump off a cliff without transforming than let her daughter actually fight a wyvern by herself. 

Stupid overprotective dragon mom instincts. 

Irie took a deep breath, calling on the fire inside of her stomach, and before the wyvern had taken note of the pair she charged it and used her breath attack. Or at least she tried to. It kind of worked, but she wasn't sure if this was exactly how it was supposed to be done. The fire came out in a large explosive puff instead of a steady stream like in all the artistic depictions in the books Rhea showed her when Irie was little. Either way, it took the wyvern off guard and that was the moment that Irie realized just how much larger she was than the wyvern. 

This wyvern was probably a good amount bigger than the average wyvern you'd see a knight using. Mostly because it was wild as opposed to tamed and bred for specific traits. But Irie still towered over the thing. 

The wyvern gave a startled shriek but quickly responded to the challenge by flapping its wings at Irie and bringing itself to its full height. The wild wyverns could also breathe fire, so in attempt to ward Irie off it spat flames at her. Irie just blinked, unphased by the much weaker flames which did little more than warm her scales. 

Oh. 

Right. 

She shouldn't have been scared. 

She's a dragon for Sothis' sake. 

She smacked her hand (paw?) into the wyvern and the creature gave a pathetic shriek as it flailed around under her colossal weight. It was just a wyvern. She was nearly four times bigger than the thing. She'd forgotten for a moment that she was essentially a demigod, much like Rhea. She didn't need to scared of a wyvern. It was a wyvern. 

She'd been so worked up when Byleth made this request. And for what? A fire that couldn't even burn her. 

She held it down by the throat and glanced at Byleth who launched herself from her perch and ran forward without any trace of fear. Byleth liked to act like a dragon (recklessly self endangering) even though neither was sure Byleth could even transform. They hadn't tried it, but admittedly that was because Irie was scared of what would happen. 

According to Byleth things were happening that had never happened before. The pointy ears weren't a thing that Byleth was supposed to have. So apparently Irie just being alive was causing unexpected bodily changes in Byleth. According to Sothis who'd been using Byleth as an intermediate for conversation, she had two running theories. 

The first was that Byleth's body was reactionarily adapting. The combination of Sothis' magic becoming and more and more Byleth's magic combined with the fact that Irie was alive and simply existing within Byleth's proximity was causing a chemical biological reaction which allowed for Byleth's Nabatean heritage to become properly displayed. It was a reaction to chemicals and pheromones that Irie herself was probably producing. The reason it didn't display normally was either a defense mechanism or Byleth's body just didn't properly mature because of a lack of Nabatean relatives present within her life. 

The second theory was that Irie had accidentally passed her newly discovered crest onto Byleth. The two crests combined was enough to trigger a change and cause Byleth to become closer to her Nabatean half. Usually, possessing dual crests was enough to kill a person but being that Byleth was in fact half Nabatean and the 'reincarnation' of Sothis it made it possible for her to have multiple crests without the same bodily damage as the average person. That was by far the easier scenario to prove as soon as Byleth could get in touch with Hanneman. 

For all Irie knew it could be combination of both. 

As Irie held the wyvern down by its neck Byleth crawled onto the back of the creature and clung tight. The wyvern hissed and spat, making all sorts of agitated noises until it slowly ran out of energy. Eventually, the creature slowled its flailings before coming to a complete stop. Hesitantly, Irie removed her grip on the creature wondering if she'd killed it by accident. 

Byleth tugged on its horns and the beast stood up. She ran her hand along its flank and it gave a noise that Irie instantly recognized as submissive. Apparently being pinned to the ground by a creature four times your size was enough for even the proud and inconquerable wyvern to just give up. 

She was pretty sure she'd just been an accessory to breaking the spirit of a wyvern. Byleth seemed utterly ecstatic. "Come on," she said as both an order to the wyvern and a request to her mother. Irie finally got her dream of being able to fly with Byleth. The two climbed up higher and higher into the sky, twirling through the icy air. Irie had to be careful since Byleth and her wyvern were much smaller. One day Irie would be brave enough to see if Byleth could transform, but that day wouldn't be today. For now, this was good enough. Especially considering Byleth could take this into battle as opposed to a dragon form which would need to be a private thing. 

The wyvern to its credit seemed to adjust fairly quickly to its new lot in life, flying carefully as to not drop the child. Irie felt a little better upon realizing that Byleth now had a wyvern bodyguard as long as she continued to take good care of it. 

After flying around for a couple moments longer the two landed. "Have you come up with a name yet?" Irie asked. 

Byleth smiled at her. "Avalon," she said as she ran her hand down the wyvern's throat. The creature made a noise somewhere between a cluck and coo before perking up. The wyvern leaned into the touch to Byleth's joy as she continued to run her hands up and down its body as Irie watched proudly, still in her dragon form. 

All good things come to an end, unfortunately. 

"Irie! Byleth!" The wind carried a distant voice and Irie would be lying if she said she didn't panic. Just a little bit. That was Jeralt. That was Jeralt's voice and oh no Irie's a dragon. Irie's a really big dragon. She pushed herself to the ground, covering her large draconian head with her large draconian hands as though that would hide her. Yes, she was a master of illusions and no one would ever be the wiser. 

Byleth flung herself off of Avalon and rushed down the slope to try and play damage control but it was already too late. Jeralt crested the top of the mountain riding a very winded Mercury. His jaw dropped as he flung himself off the horse, grabbed Byleth by the waist, and pointed his sword at Irie. Goodbye happy marriage. Goodbye husband who she loved. Irie was taking her child, but goodbye mercenary company. It was nice while it lasted... 

"Byleth, what in the hell is that thing?" Jeralt asked, his sword actually shaking. The only other time Irie had seen him scared was in the weeks prior to Byleth's birth when nerves were starting to get at him. 

"It's a dragon," she said. 

"Now isn't the time for the jokes!" 

"It's also mom."

"I said that now isn't the time for jokes."

Irie swallowed her terror and removed her hands from her face. "It isn't a joke," she said. Her voice was distorted by her draconian form but from the tone and cadence, it was still very obviously Irie. Jeralt dropped the sword. He proceeded to pull a flask out of his front pocket and chug the entire thing. After he downed the whole flask he pushed it back into his pocket and stared at Irie for a long, silent second. 

"Can... can you change back?" 

Irie did as requested, stamping down the draconian flames and allowing her transformation to drop. Avalon just sat there, almost seeming to relish in the catastrophe that was playing out before her like some kind of karmic retribution for her taming. Fucking wyverns. 

Jeralt looked at Irie. Irie looked at Jeralt. Irie was prepared to fight Jeralt for custody. Instead, Jeralt just put his head in his hands. "Dear fucking Goddess, the one thing... The one thing I asked the two of you not to be. The one thing. And you're fucking dragons." He muttered. 

"Technically we don't know if Byleth is a dragon or not yet," she offered up as though that was going to make the situation better. As though there wasn't a ton of other things about Byleth she and Byleth herself would need to explain to her very confused and upset husband. 

Jeralt grabbed Byleth by her tapered ear which only seemed to get more pointed and identical to Irie's by the day. Irie dropped her gaze to her feet. 

"All those times that I called Rhea a dragon of a woman were you just sitting there in the corner giggling at me?" He asked, still trying to process what exactly he was seeing. 

"A little bit, yeah," Irie said, shrugging and scrunching up her nose. That actually managed to pull a laugh from Jeralt. 

"I should have seen this coming the first time my own mother-in-law managed to full on throw me down the hall. Alright. You know what. Fine. Sure. My wife is a dragon. There are worse things to marry. I could have married a goat. Or maybe a Gorgon. There are certainly worse things for my child to be." He was handling this almost scarily well. That was one of the things Irie loved about Jeralt. Admittedly, the moment she took her eyes off him he was probably going to go get smashed. Like, blackout drunk levels. But that was acceptable because the next day he'd come back having accepted that this was his fate and ready to move on. 

"Is there anything else I should know about?"

Irie glanced at Byleth. Byleth glanced at Irie. The two nodded. Irie turned back to Jeralt. "We should go back to camp first, you're going to want to sit down for this next part," she said. 

Before they explained anything though, Byleth was going to find the biggest bottle of alcohol. 


	8. Chapter 8

_19th of Wyvern, Year 1165_

So. His daughter was God. Jeralt didn’t fully understand Irie’s explanation. It probably would have been better if Byleth explained it herself but when they got back to camp all she’d done was leave a bottle of alcohol within reach and fled the general vicinity. Almost like she was, you know, scared maybe? Of what, Jeralt couldn’t fathom. 

So yeah. What he gathered from the explanation was that Rhea was actually the same Seiros who was actually a daughter of the goddess whose name was Sothis. Irie herself was born with the purpose of being a vessel for Sothis but it didn’t work so Rhea let her just live in the monastery. When Byleth was born, she was actually stillborn. So Irie asked Rhea to take a Crest Stone thing from out of Irie and put it into Byleth so that Byleth could be born alive. 

Okay. Jeralt was confused, but he followed. Kinda? 

Irie was supposed to die without the Crest Stone and from the blood loss of birth, but Sothis herself apparently appeared before Irie and told Irie that nah, she didn’t get to die yet there was work to do. She then explained how she and Byleth were kind of the same thing after a lot of nonsense that Jeralt definitely couldn’t understand. Point of the matter was a lot of timeline shenanigans latter his daughter had made herself into God, laughably be accident no less, and had already live a couple different lives before this one. Most of which Jeralt died and everything went to shit, so this was another attempt where she actually managed to keep Irie alive. 

“Are you sure you weren’t delusional from the blood loss?” Was the first thing that Jeralt asked because sweet Goddess if Irie was telling him the truth then his daughter was the Goddess. How in the world, how in the sweet and baffling mortal world, was he supposed to deal with that? How was he supposed to treat her? 

So yeah, she wasn’t the exact same Goddess as in the scripture. She was still a different person, at least according to Irie’s explanation. But also according to what Irie had said Byleth was now God and could hear the voice of her predecessor _in her head _like some kind of crazy person and yeah, maybe Jeralt was freaking out a little bit and the only reasonable thing he could think of was that maybe Irie went a little loco from blood loss. 

Maybe he was never as deep into the dogma as Irie and Rhea herself had been, but like any good citizen of Fodlan, Jeralt still believed in the faith. He prayed to the Goddess, particularly when things were going to shit. He believed in her power and her presence and the fact she did her best to watch over the people of Fodlan in their worst moments. Rescuing people from bad situations and... wait a moment. He was suddenly getting flashback to Chanel.

“No, honey, I promise you what I saw was real. For crying out loud look at me and then look at Byleth and tell me that you still can’t believe my story,” Irie motioned to herself in all her glory. The body which about an hour ago had taken on the form of a dragon and outright had been flying around in the sky. So maybe Byleth being the reincarnation of a Goddess wasn’t the most unreasonable thing in the world. His wife was a dragon. The one thing he’d been praying to the Goddess for her not to be. Ironically, he supposed it would make more sense now why his prayer didn’t get answered. But seriously?

Jeralt picked up the bottle of alcohol his child had so kindly left, yanked off the top, and chugged about half of it. It was disgusting. Everclear was stupidly high proof. Not to mention it burned all the way down his throat. But he needed to get drunk as physically possible and fast. 

Irie frowned deeply as he set the bottle down and sighed. It wasn’t just a frown. She looked... nervous? 

Jeralt hated how high his alcohol tolerance was. He blamed the Crest that Rhea had given him. Even that much Everclear and he was only starting to feel a gentle buzz in the back of his mind. Irie had once asked what kind of liver he had and apparently it was a magical one if he really had gotten blessed by the actual Seiros who was also a daughter of the goddess who was apparently his daughter and what kind of fucked up family tree was that? 

He turned his attention back to Irie who seemed to be struggling for the right words. Since she was having trouble, he decided that maybe he should talk. “I guess it makes some sense in retrospect. That woman was too strong to be human. Not to mention, Byleth always acts too mature for her age...” he trailed off, feeling a slight sting in his chest. “Is it weird that I feel bad? I mean, it’s a bit like not getting the chance to raise your own child. There are certain joys I suppose I’ll never get. She’s... she’s already all grown up, and she’s not even a teen.”

Jeralt didn’t cry. He didn’t. Okay, so maybe he did. The stinging in his chest moved up to his eyes and he felt a couple droplet escape. 

Irie’s expression turned to a gentle one of sympathy. “Oh darling, is that the only reason you’re upset? Please don’t think of it like that.”

“Am I ever her parents anymore? I mean... what am I? What role am I supposed to play in her life? If she’s the Goddess, then what right do I have to raise her, what raising is there that still needs to be done? Am I still even her father at that point?” Jeralt loved his family. He loved his daughter. But what role could he actually play as her father if-

Irie smacked him right between his shoulder blades. Hard. Considering what exactly she was, it was pretty damn hard. “What the hell woman!?”

“Jeralt Reus Eisner! Don’t you dare talk like that. Byleth is your daughter, and she’s my daughter, and I don’t give a fuck if she’s already done this once before she’s still our child. Maybe she’s a bit more grown up than we were expecting, but it’s still our job to love and support her. There are things about this world she doesn’t know yet, ways in which she needs our help. I was admitted a little scared at first too, but she’s still our daughter before all else. And I can guarantee you that she still loves us,” the conviction in her voice made it hard for Jeralt not to believe his wife. 

“Besides,” Irie continued with a small grin, “how old could this possibly make her now? In her 40s? Maybe even earlier in her 30s? I’d like to remind you that you and I are semi-immortal demigods, and dragons are still very young children until they turn _at least _50\. She is our daughter no matter who or what anyone says. And if someone disagrees, then we simply have to make them disappear.” Irie’s grin turned dangerous. 

Thinking about it reasonable, Byleth was still also the same child who got distracted and ran into trees from time to time.

Jeralt held up his hands to either side of her face, staring deeply into Irie’s eyes. “I love you so much. You are terrifying. Please don’t get us into any legal trouble talking like that.” 

Irie laughed as she leaned into the palm of his hand, a small almost purr like noise coming from the back of her throat. His wife is a dragon. And you know? There are worse mythological creatures to marry. The fact his wife could probably kick his ass had been a bit of a turn on in the early days of their relationship. He supposed this wasn’t so bad. It just meant he didn’t need to worry about his wife and his daughter as much anymore when they went on jobs. He’d still worry because that was part of his job as a father and a husband, but it meant he could worry a lot less. 

“You should go talk to Byleth,” Irie said, finally removing herself from his grasp. 

“About?” 

“Just go make sure she knows everything is okay. If I was worried about you finding out what I am, there’s no telling how she’s been feeling,” Irie stood up and began to pull Jeralt to his feet. 

Worried? About what? His reaction? Such a silly child indeed. Irie was right. She was still plenty childish enough. He nodded, taking his leave of his wife who giggled as he left. That woman. An advanced warning would have been nice. But Jeralt loved his family. No matter what they turned out to be. His crazy, weird, could probably conquer the world if they desired but had instead decided to adopt street rats, kind of family. 

When he left the tent, Byleth was hovering nearby. Her gaze was as blank as usual, or at least that’s how it would seem to anyone else. Jeralt and Irie were parents though, and could usually tell what their child was thinking. Jeralt was even better at it than Irie funny enough. As though he’d had more experience with it than he could strictly remember... Byleth’s face was in its usual passive expression, but was wrinkled slightly between the brows and her lips were quirked downwards very faintly. The idiot was actually worried. Over what? Stupid kid should know by now just how much Jeralt cared about her. Nothing could change that. 

“Hey kid,” he called. Byleth very nearly jumped as she turned her attention to the old man. She approached him hesitantly, keeping about a foot or two of distance between them. He sighed and shook his head as her little fingers picked at the fabric of her blouse. “C’mere,” he said, opening up his arms. 

Byleth shot herself at him with enough force to knock a lesser man to the ground. Jeralt supposed now he finally understood why. It was fine though. When she wrapped her arms around him and curled her little body as close to his as possible, he realized that it was okay. 

Everything was perfectly fine. It was going to be fine. His family was weird, but they were all good people. And even if it was a little scary, he knew his daughter. She was going to make this world a better place with all the power she possessed. And she wasn’t going to forget about him. Not any time soon. 

Irie soon came out to join her family in the hug. It was a good moment. A pure moment. He wouldn’t have traded it for all the wealth and power in the world. 

He’d die before he told Alois about this. 


	9. Chapter 9

_20th of Horsebow, Year 1166_

Every year on her birthday, Byleth was allowed to make one request of her parents. This request could typically be whatever she pleased (within reason) and her parents would try their hardest to oblige her. Usually she asked for something simple. Toys, knives if she could beg her father enough, and various other trinkets of her choosing. Sometimes, it was just the attention of her family that she wanted. 

This year, the request was a little different and Irie wasn’t happy. 

Her request was a simple one, and yet it managed to spawn argument after argument between Irie and Jeralt. 

“I want to visit Grandma.” Such a simple request made weeks in advance to abide for travel times. Yet that simple request was all it took for Irie and Jeralt to be at one another’s throats for the weeks that followed it. 

Jeralt was in complete support of Byleth’s request. Mostly because he didn’t understand the full breadth of agitation Irie held towards her mother. He’d heard the rough explanation when Irie explained exactly what Byleth actually was. But Jeralt never saw the look of demented joy on Rhea’s face when Byleth was born. He knew Irie was upset at Rhea, but not why Irie was so upset. So, Jeralt still being marginally loyal to Rhea, didn’t quite understand the severity of the request.

Irie was somewhere between borderline distraught and livid. She thought it was a bad idea, a terrible one in fact. Rhea could prove to be extremely dangerous if Byleth wasn’t careful, and Irie being the overprotective and doting dragon mother that she was didn’t want to risk that. Divine Pulse or not, Rhea had a level of power that Irie just didn’t want to mess with. Irie didn’t want to risk provoking her.

Jeralt’s argument mostly focused around Byleth technically being God and Irie’s argument spotlighted how borderline unhinged Rhea had acted in those last couple days. 

Byleth’s argument? Everyone deserved the chance to be forgiven. On top of that, Rhea was important to Byleth’s future plans. The mercenary company, for as wonderfully strong and well known as it was, didn’t have the level of power that Byleth needed to bring all her plans to fruition. She needed power on the level of a high tier noble, or maybe even a ruler. The power behind the position of Archbishop was exactly what she needed. So Rhea was kind of going to be invaluable for the next couple of years while Byleth sunk her fangs into the largest and most immediate threats. 

Not to mention, she still felt bad for Rhea whose current actions weren’t entirely her fault. There was more to the story than Irie knew, so Byleth wanted to take the chance to try saving Rhea. 

Irie, battered into verbal submission by Jeralt and Byleth, turned to the rest of their extended family. Unfortunately, Alois had also been a knight and Chanel was completely clueless when it came to Rhea, considering the two had never met. Meaning Irie had officially lost. 

After sending Rhea a letter in advance declaring their intention to visit, the family had made their way towards the monastery at a pace which allowed them to arrive exactly on Byleth’s birthday. 

Irie had made sure the letter detailed very clearly that it was Byleth’s request for her birthday. Not to mention that they only had the intention of staying a couple days.

And by ‘they’ it mostly meant Irie. Byleth couldn’t say she entirely blamed her mother. 

The family of three were the only ones that would actually be visiting. Which made Irie even less happy. Alois and Chanel were in charge of the company so that it could keep making money while the trio visited Rhea. While they were popular, it was still dangerous to go inactive for any number of days, so the two adopted family members were put in charge of keeping things running. Alois was a good leader for the men and Chanel made for a wonderful accountant who kept things running behind the scenes. 

They both looked and acted so silly and helpless... it was almost scary how quickly they got things working smoothly under their reign. Talk about dangerous. 

If the mercenary company ever expanded enough to have multiple branches, Byleth would recommend her father make those two the leaders of their own branch. 

As they arrived at the monastery, a rush of guards came out to greet them. Byleth didn’t know if it was a display of power or if Rhea was genuinely trying to be friendly in her weird way. Either way, Irie started to bristle and wouldn’t get off Astrala until Jeralt was forced to lift his wife off of the pegasus. The three had all been riding their own mounts. Irie on Astrala, Jeralt on Mercury, and Byleth on Avalon. Mercury and Astrala didn’t look too bothered. Avalon though, Byleth felt the wyvern tense underneath her as she was forced to get off and hand the reins over to one of the knights to properly stable the beast.

“Be good,” Byleth whispered to her as she followed her parents who quickly found themselves with a knightly escort. Were they guests or prisoners?

It wasn’t like the three of them knew the monastery better than shut-in Rhea or anything. Rhea, who’d never taken Byleth invitations to go to tea. Rhea, who never left the second floor of the monastery unless she absolutely had to. Rhea, who preached from her balcony and only came out on special events like the Rite of Rebirth. 

The knights, instead of leading the trio to the reception hall like Byleth expected, took the small family directly to Rhea’s personal rooms. Now Jeralt was starting to share the same nervous appearance as his wife. 

In stark contrast to her parents, Byleth was the picture of calm. On the outside. On the inside, she was admittedly starting to feel a little guilty for what she was about to do.

Not the manipulating Rhea part. Byleth felt a little entitled to dish out some of Rhea’s own medicine. So, she had no problem trying to play Rhea like a cheap fiddle, leaning hard into the whole reincarnated god shtick so she could properly pull it off. The part that made her feel guilty was how she was about to use Sothis to do it. 

_“You aren’t using me,” _the voice in the back of her head told her. Sothis spent a lot of her time sleeping in the back of Byleth’s unconscious. She wasn’t the Goddess anymore, just Byleth’s best friend who could coincidentally only be seen by Byleth and occasionally benevolently possessed Byleth when she was too busy having a mental breakdown to properly human for the day. Byleth was the new Goddess; it was her job to take care of the world. Sothis was just a spectator who liked to sleep unless she got the feeling Byleth needed her or something particularly entertaining what happening. 

Byleth knew that Sothis had given her the power to use the name and title of the Progenitor Goddess as she pleased since it was her title now, but she still felt kind of bad outright calling herself Sothis. Claiming what she was about to claim.

_“It isn’t like you’re claiming anything false. You do remember everything I’ve been able to recall. So tell me. What do you remember about the nature of souls?” _Sothis asked in that typical condescending tone of hers. Byleth adored it because she knew that Sothis was trying to make her feel better. 

What they’d remembered about souls... A soul was an immortal construct, the core of a person at their most basic level. Much like energy, a soul couldn’t be created or destroyed. Neither could it be merged with another soul or cut in half, baring bunrei or wakemitama which was in essence almost a type of reincarnation. Meaning that if Byleth was able to use the powers of Sothis, she wasn’t just some vessel or host. She was Sothis’ honest and true reincarnation the entire time. 

It still felt like such a foreign idea. How could Sothis exist if Byleth was her reincarnation? 

_“Reincarnation is an inevitability. It just works a little differently for Gods. We have so much power that sometimes we find ourselves in need of guidance when we suddenly wake up in a new life without any memories. That’s why a ghost of our past selves remains in the head of the new incarnation. As a guide. Though technically you could equate it to bunrei since I’ll never stop existing, I just can’t really leave the realm of spirits. So stop fretting. You are the Progenitor Goddess. Make Rhea believe that, and we’ve got all the power we need,” _Sothis continued to reassure the younger incarnation of herself as Byleth continued to fret. 

From how Sothis had described it, the afterlife was something of a revolving door. The only difference being for the gods, the likes of which copied their souls and reincarnated as mortals as they saw fit. Though those fragments kept their own personalities, they were still the creations of the god they were fragmented off of, returning to and reincarnating themselves and necessary. 

Of the Progenitor Goddess, there were two fragments. Sothis and Byleth, whose jobs were apparently to trade off as necessary. 

Byleth supposed it made sense in the long run. Edelgard once tried to convince her that it was the Crest Stone and the power of the Goddess which kept her from being unable to feel emotions. Edelgard wasn’t entirely wrong. The difference was that it was the absence of godly power, instead of the presence of it, was what made Byleth look at the world with muted emotion and cloudy eyes. 

It was the moment Sothis woke up, and by extension her soul, which resulted in the ability to slowly start feeling emotions again. 

The problem was still the Crest Stone. That was part of why Byleth herself was hesitant to try pushing the limits of her power even in new resets. The Crest Stones, while made from the hearts of the Nabateans, also contained their souls. Sothis’ was no exception. The soul was what carried their divine power, which is why Sothis couldn’t reincarnate prior to Byleth. Thier soul was still trapped. 

Byleth didn’t know how much of their power was still trapped in the Crest Stone. She wasn’t sure what exactly would happen if she tried to break it this new reset. Hence why she avoided the idea of trying to turn into a dragon like her mother. It might very well break the Crest Stone in a way that could cause irrevocable damage. 

That was a question for latter though. Right now, she had Rhea. Her full focus needed to be on Rhea and making Rhea think what Byleth wanted Rhea to think. 

The small family entered Rhea’s rooms and found Rhea herself waiting for them. A small set of couches was arranged around a table, in the center of which sat a pot of tea and some baked treats. Probably not as good as her mother’s or Mercedes, but the scent of the tea was tempting. 

“Please, sit,” Rhea said as she motioned to the chairs around the table and the doors snapped shut behind them with a sense of finality. Jeralt and Irie remained pressed together as they wiggled into two of the chairs. Byleth, with a childish kind of glee, took the chair closest to Rhea and had the audacity to smile up at her. Perfectly practiced and wonderfully charming, she’d gotten as good at faking her emotions and her expressions as wearing her poker face. 

Rhea went from composed to surprised in a matter of seconds. Her eyes widened by half of a faction as she looked at Byleth. “So-“ she started, but quickly stopped herself and tried to shake her head as though clearing an unwanted thought. Her gaze burned into Byleth like the child was some peculiar creature she’d never seen before. Byleth just smiled at her. 

Nabateans could not only smell one another’s scent, but they could pick up on one another’s auras. While fainter for some of the younger Nabateans, they each gave off their own unique presence that they could notice at a glance. Sothis was no exception, and on the tail end of that, neither was Byleth. Their auras would probably look identical to Rhea, hence Rhea’s current confusion. She was sensing the presence of Sothis, no questions asked. 

“Hello little one, I’m your grandmother Rhea,” Rhea said, trying to recover her composure. 

Oh, she wouldn’t have it for long. 

“I’m Byleth,” she said, toying with her fingers. 

“And have your parents given you a middle name yet?” Rhea had no part in getting to name Byleth, but she’d wanted Byleth’s middle name to be something religious and related to Sothis. Jeralt and Irie had never actually thought to give her a middle name, so they expected Byleth to answer no. Byleth hadn’t told them that she’d given herself a middle name. It was better their shock be entirely genuine.

“Sothis!” She proudly declared, taking all three people in the room entirely off guard. Rhea turned to Irie with a mystified expression, looking for answers. 

“I- We didn’t give her that middle name,” Irie said, looking just as confused as Rhea looked. 

“You didn’t?” Byleth asked, turning to her mother with a tilt of her head. “But Sothis feels like it belongs in my name.” She started to pout as she turned to Rhea with big puppy dog eyes and Rhea immediately melted. 

“Well, little one, have you ever heard of reincarnation?” Before Rhea could get into any kind of speech, Irie cleared her throat and leveled a glare at her mother. Irie was starting to get nervous, and it was showing in the way she kept shifting in her chair every couple of seconds, chewing her nails and tugging on strands of her hair. 

“Perhaps it might be better to talk about something else,” Jeralt stepped up in a vain attempt to appease Irie without setting off Rhea. “I mean, we’re only staying for a day or two.” 

Rhea’s disposition sagged. “I, yes, I suppose you’re right. I wish you would stay a while longer. I suppose I do owe Irie something of an apology.” Her words came out bitter and the cogs in her head were already starting to turn. There was no way she’d be giving up without a fight, now that she was absolutely certain that Byleth was Sothis on some level. That did, however, put Byleth in a unique position of power. 

“I wanna stay longer and learn about the Goddess,” Byleth declared in an even tone that made it sound less like a request and more like a statement of fact regarding what she was going to do. Rhea’s expression turned brilliant while Irie’s eyes started to boil with wrath. “I’m safe here, and I can learn about our family,” she said to her mother, giving her a truly serene expression. Irie hunched over slightly, lips quirking downwards. “But it can only be for a couple of moons, okay?” She turned to Rhea this time, making her voice firm. 

Rhea nodded enthusiastically. “Of course, dear one. I can’t expect you to stay away from your parents for too long. I just hope you plan to visit more. Especially with Irie.” 

Irie’s expression fell in a way that implied she was giving up. Broken in spirit, a sigh on her lips. “Fine. Fine. Jeralt, you can go back to the company. I, however, am not leaving.”

Stage one complete. Rhea was throughly convinced Byleth was the reincarnation of Sothis. Stage two, convincing Rhea to take action in the coming events Byleth wanted her to. Stage three, properly socializing Rhea to be saner (a feat Byleth knew was possible from when she sided with the church) and making sure that Rhea was actually stable and able to see Byleth as a person instead of Sothis v.2. 

It was a tall order, but Byleth was certain she could do it. Just give her a couple moons...


	10. Chapter 10

_2nd of Wyvern, Year 1166_

Her mother was back! Or would be back soon enough. Rhea couldn’t help the slightest skip in her step whenever she was within range of the child. Byleth, as though Rhea was actually going to call her that. Such a silly name her own daughter had chosen. 

No, no. That was Sothis! Rhea was sure of it.

There was so much to do. She had to put her plans off for the first couple of weeks so Irie wouldn’t grow suspicious or uncomfortable. Rhea couldn’t risk Irie taking mother away again, no. So Rhea had been quiet with her plans for the first couple of weeks, doing little more than doting on the child who was soon to remember what and who she really was. Oh joyful days, the child wasn’t even some blank vessel either. Rhea could feel her aura. That was mother herself! Memories or not. Step one would be getting in touch properly with Seteth. 

She wouldn’t tell him the full extent of things in her letter. Seteth was fairly forgiving, but even Seteth would grow vaguely upset if he understood the full extent of Rhea’s... experiments. He didn’t even know about Irie yet now that Rhea thought about it. 

Seteth never missed mother as much as Rhea did. He still liked humanity, the traitors. Such foolish little creatures of poor wit who could hardly guide themselves. Unintelligent and bland with very few exceptions. Jeralt was one exception. Rhea didn’t hate him.

Not as much as she hated her daughter presently. The foolish bratty little girl! She’s abandoned and betrayed Rhea. Truly the most unforgiving of offenses. Rhea, who’d allowed the failure to live when she could have been finding another way to revive her mother. Admittedly Rhea had only allowed it knowing there was a chance her daughter could in turn produce a child that could foster mother’s spirit. 

At least, she thinks that’s what her intention was with keeping Irie alive. 

She couldn’t say for certain anymore. Her thoughts were muddled, and it’s hard to concentrate. She hadn’t even been able to complete her duties for the last couple of weeks. There’s no way she could remember far back enough to say with any certainty what her intentions were... but she doubted she’d let some failure live off of mother’s Crest Stone. No, no, she wanted her mother. She needed her mother. As soon as mother remembered everything the world would be good again. Humanity would bow to their new Goddess revived, and everything would be okay. No more Agarthians, no more sadness, no more war. Everyone would be happy because mother in all her perfection would lead Fodlan to a better future. And best of all, Rhea would be happy, because she’d never again be separated from her mother and all would be well. 

Gods were perfect creatures, after all. As soon as mother was back everything would be good and perfect. 

Rhea was certain of it. 

Now she just needed to get in contact with Seteth and Flayn. She didn’t care about Macuil or Indech as much anymore. They left her, the traitors. They could continue to sleep for the rest of eternity, slowly rotting away. They didn’t matter. Rhea just needed her loyal brother, her precious little niece, and her mother. That’s all Rhea wanted; all she needed to have her own perfect little world. 

Please, she was begging. She needed it so badly. She didn’t want to feel lost and scared anymore. The betrayal of humanity still stung so deeply it clawed at the confines of her heart with venomous talons. Was it so much to ask to be happy for once? Was it too much to ask to just have her family? She wasn’t being greedy; she didn’t think so, anyway. Mother would come back to her and mother would be proud of what Rhea did with the world before she took the throne of Archbishop and led it properly. After all, Rhea had done her best! 

She made sure humanity would never hurt them again, tying Crests to the Goddess and taking away all things technologically advanced enough to do her harm. Mother would come back and she’d be proud. 

Ah, right, right. Letter to Seteth. 

Rhea gathered some writing supplies on her desk and drafted up a quick letter. She informed Seteth that it was urgent he came to the monastery and brought Flayn with him. She made sure to mention that it was for a good reason, that it wasn’t something bad and she was certain both of them would be quite pleased when they arrived. 

Her final action before sealing up the note was to bite into her thumb and smear the blood against the paper, right next to her signature. That little mark was more powerful than any wax seal when it came to proving her identity. She still sealed it with wax for the sake of making sure it didn’t get tampered with and no one read it before it made its way to Seteth. After that was done Rhea relaxed, feeling quite pleased with herself. Mother, her mother. Her wonderful mother. She would come back soon, and then everything would be fine. 

Right?

Rhea just wanted to feel safe again. She wanted to be wrapped in arms she knew would protect her, to feel the familial warmth of those who would never judge her, to feel fingers running through her hair while a lullaby helped her drift off. 

Was that really too much to ask for? Was she really a bad person for wanting her family back?

And then once mother was back, mother would be able to make more family. She could revive their old family and bring forth new family. That was why Rhea had been so closely guarding the Crest Stones and the Heroes Relics. She hoped that mother could bring back the lives of those who were lost in Zanado. With her entire family present once more... Rhea could go back to being the baby. She was the youngest of her siblings. The only Nabateans younger than her were the ones born to other Nabateans. Her little nieces and nephews like precious little Flayn. She missed being the baby, being doted on by older siblings and her mother alike. 

The warmth of the memory brought a small burst of hope to her heart. Oh, how she wanted that. She wanted to feel that so badly. That was all she wanted. She’d be happy with just her mother, but she could still dream. 

Irie would not be present, Rhea decided resolutely. Irie had betrayed Rhea the day Irie ran away. The worst offense imaginable to Rhea way betrayal, so she’d get no forgiveness. Rhea would make sure of it, and surely mother would also be angry at Irie for hiding things. Refusing to tell mother who mother really was. Sacrilege of the highest degree! She’d be punished with exile. 

Well maybe, _maybe _if she asked sweetly Rhea would let her back into the family at mother’s discretion, but she’d be no daughter of Rhea’s, no way! 

Rhea couldn’t help grinning to herself and giggling as she continued to let herself get lost in the fantasies of a more hopeful future. Only to be jarred out of it by a rapping against her doors. Oh, what a bother, it was so early in the morning. Still before sunrise! Didn’t those guards know only her family was allowed to bother her in her own rooms? “Come in,” she said anyway, doing her best to keep the annoyed edge off of her tone. Snappishness would do her no good, not against good and loyal little believers like her knights. She needed to be patient, soon all would be well with her world and no one would dare interrupt her time with mother. 

The edge of irritation reared its head once more when it was Irie who came in the door, closing it behind her. Here to beg already, are we? Perhaps Irie was smarter than she looked. Well, if she’d already realized her wrongs, then maybe Rhea would be her mother again. Though Rhea was still cross. Shouldn’t Irie of all people know how much betrayal hurts Rhea? “Is there something you need?” Rhea asked, putting up a well-practiced smile for her dissenting daughter. What trouble children are, but Rhea was a benevolent woman.

“I need to talk to you about Byleth,” Irie said and Rhea felt all hope for her daughter shatter. So that’s how things were going to be. Her pupils narrowed slightly, though that was the only marker of her displeasure. 

“You mean Sothis?” Rhea asked, continuing to put up her ever pleasant facade. Be strong, Rhea, you’re doing it for mother. Soon Irie wouldn’t matter anymore.

The younger dragon narrowed her eyes dangerously at Rhea and all but growled, “No. I mean Byleth. And that’s exactly what I want to talk about. Stop trying to force her into being a replacement, she’s somebody else,” Irie fluffed slightly, and Rhea could feel the crackle of divine energy. So Irie developed her own Crest, did she? No matter. Rhea was still stronger.

She actually felt a small dose of sympathy. So this is what it was all about. Irie was worried that Rhea was trying to get rid of her daughter in a sense. Well, that would have been true if the child was a soulless husk. Like she would have been under normal circumstances. But Irie was lucky. “My dear child,” she said, striding forward and placing her hand against Irie’s cheek. “She’s no replacement. You have given birth to the one and only Goddess of this world. Her reincarnation! She is no replacement, I just wish to remind her of who she really is.”

Rhea wasn’t expecting her hand to be batted away with such ferocity. “No, if that’s what you want to do with her then she’s just your fucking replacement!” Rhea was... confused. Irie’s gaze was dangerous, venomously angry even. But her eyes were leaking. “If the only reason you care about her is to ‘remind’ her of some past life then she’s just a replacement. This version of her doesn’t matter to you, and you’re stuck in the past idolizing a dead woman.” 

“How dare you! I can only forgive so much insolence Irie. I know you couldn’t possibly understand. You never felt the aura of the Goddess, but their auras are identical. That is Sothis.” Rhea felt herself starting to get angry, but Irie shatter the idea of a civil conversation with unexpected ferocity and gave the Archbishop no quarter to continue speaking with.

“That was Sothis! As in Sothis is dead and Byleth is a new version who is separate from that existence. All the things that made up Sothis’ personality? Her experiences, the things she learned from those around her, everything about her that you loved came from the way that she decided to respond to the world around her. That personality, it can’t be replicated. Even by a reincarnation with similar inclinations to existence. Each life, reincarnation or not, is unique and individual. Special. To try and force the personality of Sothis on Byleth is cruel and unusual,” Irie took a step back when Rhea advanced closer, the green eyes of the older dragon narrowing dangerously. 

The room heated up slightly, and the pressure surely made Irie’s ears pop. “Child, I can only be so forgiving. I am in no way forcing the personality of Sothis onto Byleth. I’m just trying to remind her of who she really is. Sothis. The one and only. My mother.”

Rhea expected Irie to shrivel up, back down, maybe retreat. Rhea wouldn’t have even been shocked if Irie decided to stand taller and retaliate with more words. She didn’t expect the sharp pain in the side of her face. She blinked once. Then twice. 

Did...

Did Irie just deck her in the jaw?

Stunned, and a bit taken off guard, Rhea’s thoughts scattered. Then, as fast as they’d scattered, they put themselves back together. Except, they were in a bit of a different order. All anger and rage deflated from her body the longer she looked at Irie cry, shaking like a leaf. Her distress far more genuine than anything Rhea had ever seen before. The world took on a sharp crystalline kind of clarity that was almost fierce enough to cut. Rhea lurched slightly, feeling like the world was falling out from beneath her. 

What just happened?

Irie didn’t notice the shift. Instead, she kept talking. “You’re acting like a disgrace! Do you think Sothis would be proud of you? Acting like this? Rhea, look at everything you’ve done and the effect it’s had on this world. Look at how you’ve treated the people around you. How you’ve treated me, your own daughter. Then compare it to how Sothis treated you. Can you honestly say she’d be proud? That she’d be happy? I think you need to get in touch with Indech, speak to him about how reincarnation works. He understands it better than you do. Whatever the fuck you’re trying to do right now? You need to stop it. I didn’t betray you. I fucking helped you when I took Byleth as far away from this place as possible. I saved you and did you the biggest favor I could. Now she’s the one asking to give you a second chance, so you take a good, hard look around and you make damn well sure you don’t squander it.”

“I understand that you miss the past. I miss when I was able to look you in the eye without seeing someone who never loved me. But knowing the real you, I can’t believe that you actually did. I miss that. But the thing about time is that you and I can’t go back. Even the power of a God can’t go back far enough in time to fix what’s been lost. The Nabateans are gone, and we’re all that’s left. You need to stop clinging to delusions and start moving forward again. Take the second chance Rhea. I want to be able to forgive you. I want to move forward with you. We have a new Goddess now. You have a Granddaughter. It’s not a replacement, because it’s impossible to replace something important. But if you try embracing the future, maybe it can be just as good. Goodbye Rhea,” Irie turned on her heels, going for the door. 

Her hands were shaking, Rhea realized, as Irie reached for the doorknob and fumbled for a moment. Looking down at her own hands, they were shaking too.

Disappointed... mother would be... disappointed. No, she wouldn’t! Right?

Rhea, she’d done nothing wrong. She just did what she thought was best. Despite what her head was telling her, the small pang in her chest disagreed with her. In the back of her mind, something started laying out a timeline of her life. It started pointing at different spots. ‘Look at all the things you’ve done wrong’, it said. The Crestocracy wasn’t entirely her fault, but she’d perpetuated it and the damage it caused. Crests had value, they would have been important regardless of what she did. But had she not made it worse?

She couldn’t help but think about Hanneman and the story he’d told her of how he lost his sister when he applied to be a teacher. She thought about why Flayn couldn’t openly admit Seteth was her father, the dangers her Crest posed to herself. Rhea sat down. 

And Rhea thought.

And Rhea realized that her daughter’s disappointment stung a lot more than she thought it would. 


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I haven't decided if I'm going to chance Irie's name to Sitri yet, though I'm already thinking about how to incorporate the information from the Ashen Wolves side story. So even if we stick to having Irie be the canon mama for this story, you can expect to start seeing some references to other bits of the new DLC soon. Hopefully. 
> 
> Regarding the whole Irie question, I left it as-is for this chapter just for simplicity. I'm not particularly inclined either direction, going back to edit older chapters to be Sitri or keeping it as is. So I'm going to go ahead and pose that question to all of you. What would you prefer? Irie or changing it to Sitri?

_6th of Wyvern, Year 1166_

The glare brushed against her shoulder blades, making itself very known. Byleth's back was turned, so it wasn't like she could speak with absolute confidence, but she was fairly certain her mother was glaring at her. Irie had been doing so off and on for the last couple of days. Not a hateful glare, but the annoying kind of glare you'd give a child which was acting out in ways you couldn't understand. It was reminiscent of the expression Byleth herself usually wore when her squishy mage students carelessly tried to rush enemies much stronger than them. At least she finally knew where she got it from now. 

She didn't let the expression bother her too much. If she was being honest with herself, Byleth knew why her mother was wearing such a look. If the roles were swapped, Byleth would probably be wearing it herself. 

"How much longer are we going to be staying here, again?" Her mother asked, fingerpad agitatedly tapping against the page of her book in a staccato rhythm. The two were at present combing through the monastery library. It was early enough in the morning that few enough people were actually milling about. So few that it felt like it was just Irie and Byleth. Which was part of why Irie felt so bold voicing her agitation. 

While progress was slow and her mother's emotional state was agonizing, Byleth knew she was making progress. Cracks were starting to visibly form in Rhea's disposition. In fact, somehow Byleth had managed to convince her that going into town with her and Irie today was a good idea. Of course, the Archbishop would have a full escort even if Byleth doubted it was truly necessary. The outing itself would be good for Rhea, not to mention good for the people. Rhea so rarely left the monastery, and even on monastery grounds, she avoided interacting with humans whenever possible. Clinging to the memory of a parent lost. 

Byleth had once upon a time clung to the memory of Jeralt like that. Mourning and wailing, entirely willing to burn down everything in her path if only for the chance to bring her father back. But that had done no good. It only left charred earth and corpses in the place of what could have been a bright future if only she'd carried herself a little higher. Brushed away the grief knowing that it did her no good. Coped in a manner that was healthy. 

Perhaps now she finally had the chance to rebuke that fate, to go against it with her fangs bared and her claws out. Rhea never got that chance though, so she stagnated. If Sothis was The Begining, then surely Byleth was The End. If that was the case, Rhea represented The Indefinite. Eternity. Stagnant, everlasting, looping in circles with no real direction other than some tainted and sullied wish. 

She was fairly certain that it was making Rhea's overall condition so much worse. 

"A little bit longer," Byleth said. In truth, it would probably be a couple more moons before Byleth felt comfortable leaving, but she wasn't ready to admit that to her very agitated mother. She could feel Sothis stir in the back of her mind, her equal opposite slightly tuning into the conversation. The presence was a welcome addition to the discussion since anything resembling an argument made Byleth feel uncomfortable. She still wasn't entirely used to having and expressing emotions. One might assume she'd be used to it by now, but something like that takes years atop years to adjust to. Maybe by the time she was 20 again, she'd have adjusted. It would be easy for her to smile or shout. But for now, the corners of her lips twisted at awkward angles as they tried to force themselves into the proper expression. 

Discomfort was an emotion she'd always been able to feel, but it was so much more potent like this. 

"Why do we have to stay here?" Her mother asked, brow furrowing as she closed her book and set it down to the side. It was always the same conversation that they had just about every day. Yet, it still had the power to make Byleth's skin prickle. She could feel the anxiety just resting out of reach under the still pool of wrath that was the surface of her mother's eyes. She had good intentions, trying to rush the visit along. Irie knew Rhea was dangerous, knew just how dangerous rhea was. She didn't know the full story, sure, but she was doing what she thought was best for her child because Byleth was still her child and so much younger than her regardless of if you wanted to count the resets and separate timelines or not. It made Byleth feel all that much worse. 

She sighed, toying with a stray string one of the books had attached to its spine as a pseudo bookmark. How could she explain this delicately? How could she explain this at all? She was privy to information most other people in Fodlan would never have a clue how to start dissecting. Maybe she was a recent reincarnation in comparison, but she was the reincarnation of a Goddess of Time. There was a kind of omnipresence that came with that even if Byleth wasn't good at controlling what kind of information she picked up. 

She understood the situation but she couldn't explain it. She knew the complex mechanics behind the how and the why of this reset even being able to exist, but for the life of her she couldn't start trying to lay it out for someone who wasn't inside her own head. So how could she explain it to someone who was binding her eyes against lie and truth alike in an attempt at protection and preservation?

"Because she's sick." Was all that Byleth could really put into words. 'Sick' was the best definition she could think of. 

Irie just snorted.

"No, I mean actually sick!" Byleth's voice rose a little, but she was quick to moderate it. Not only could there be people listening in, but her emotions had been growing steadily more volatile. She could only really blame it on being a prepubescent child. She couldn't wait to be an adult again with an adult body. Being a child was fun for one reason, a lack of responsibility. That was a luxury Byleth couldn't afford, so all she was left with were the bad things about being so young. No independence or respect, constantly being looked down upon, and actually laughable amount of physical capacity, and the silent encroachment of a second puberty slinking ever closer. At the very least she had her magic, but that wasn't much!

Irie still didn't look like she was going to believe Byleth so readily, but there was a slight quirk of her eyebrow. At the very least, she was listening. 

Byleth plucked the book she'd been messing with off of the shelf, toying with it for a moment while she tried to gather up her thoughts. It was a book about the Immaculate One. Told entirely through a religious point of view. The Immaculate One... That was who Byleth had to fight during the last reset. Well, she used reset loosely.

In truth, Byleth had only ever 'existed' in one timeline prior to this one. That timeline though... it was a mess on a level that no one had ever accounted for. The Immaculate One wasn't some kind of final boss, she wasn't some grand finale, she was a damn stepping stone in a blood bath perpetrated by none other than Byleth. A Byleth who'd ended up losing all sense of hope and guidance in solitude and grief. She lashed out at everyone, wrenching every drop of power from Sothis' hands in some poor attempt to make sense of the world. To make a better world. She'd done a lot of the opposite, but she'd managed to discover a couple of things. 

The first of which being that she wasn't just Sothis' host, but her true reincarnation. Sothis handing over her full powers to a mortal would have killed anyone else, so that was the only answer. It was probably why Byleth had been able to live in the first place with the help of the Crest Stone in her chest. Because it was hers and it was meant to exist within her. She wasn't Sothis, more so, she was the pieces that made up Sothis rearranged into a different pattern. 

In her former timeline, Byleth had made some decisions she'd come to regret. She'd earned the title of The End, and everything had seemed hopeless. She'd driven Rhea alone to so much injury that she turned into her dragon form. Battered, broken, and losing she turned absolutely feral. 

Byleth won. It was a terrible decision.

She found herself alone in the darkness with nothing but a throne on which to sit. It was then that The Beginning approached The End and told her of a special ability. The End could gather up every single one of herself from past timelines, and upon their deathbeds, she could take them into herself. Upon gathering enough of her other selves, she could perform one grandiose act. A single Divine Miracle. Byleth wholeheartedly agreed. 

It would have been best to go back to square one if that was an option. If she could go all the way back to Nemesis killing Sothis, she probably would have done so. Her own existence be damned if it made her friends, her family, and her students happy. Byleth would happily become a distance memory locked in the back of Sothis' head. Even they weren't that powerful though.

Even Gods had their limits. 

So Byleth chose instead the moment she was born, using their combined divine powers to keep her mother from ever dying. To hopefully have the chance to starting her endeavors to save her children earlier on. Even then, there were always bound to be some complications. 

Because it was a Divine Miracle and Seiros was, in fact, part divine, the whole debacle had a very strange effect on Rhea. A very not good one.

While her physical state had returned to how it was when Byleth was born, her mental state was closer to the feral almost primitive version of The Immaculate One she'd fought during the last reset. Giving credit where it was due, Rhea was a strong and brilliant woman who's survived a lot of hardships. But her mental state after enduring so many injuries just outright slipped, crying and shrieking about how Byleth had stolen mother and she was going to kill her for it. At the end of Silver Snow as well as Crimson Flower she reverted to a monster with a twisted view of the world. In the last reset, Byleth had played something of an unconventional game, and that made Rhea even worse. 

While she wasn't a rampaging monster (yet), that broken mindset had apparently ended up staying with Rhea. Leading to her being even more chaotic, dangerous, and frankly less intelligent than usual. Feral was probably the only proper word for it. 

The reason for this little mess was a pretty simple one. Seiros was a daughter of Sothis. All Nabateans, regardless of status, were sensitive to tie. Seiros, in spite of being the youngest of Sothis' proper children, was the one Sothis had so lovingly and carefully crafted roughly into the shape of an 'heir'. That was part of why she was the only survivor of the Red Canyon Massacre out of all the Nabateans that had been in the Red Canyon at the time. The other 'Saints' hadn't been there for one reason or another. That was also why she was the one to carry the flag against Nemesis. That was why she was the one to go insane at the end, trying to slay everything in her path when her thoughts were lost to in the mindless insanity of her own festering wounds. Physical and mental, Byleth supposed. 

There was a magical element to it all as well. The corruptive powers at play, the likes of which Byleth herself wasn't exactly immune to. She still shivered thing about the last reset. The things she'd done, the atrocities she'd wrought upon the land in gaining her new title. 

Any amount of power could corrupt. The betrayal of her old friend's descendant had truly upset Rhea. She trusted Edelgard's ancestor more than she openly implied. It must have twisted her seeing Edelgard take up her axe against her and the church. It must have boggled Rhea's mind as to why. She couldn't understand why. And if there was one thing that Rhea couldn't stand after the Agarthians turned against Sothis, it was betrayal. 

So yeah, Rhea was sick. Literally. Out of her proper mind due to an illness she couldn't cope with. Degenerating, like dragons in foreign lands occasionally did as they grew ever closer to their twilight years. 

As fortune would have it, this case of insanity was partially magic based so it could at least be partially cured by Byleth's own hand as long as she was patient and careful. Dealing with the other half of Rhea's malady, well, that's why Byleth was glad her mother had decided to stay. Rhea needed a proper support network. After she started finally acting like any Rhea should at the start of a reset, she'd still have a long ways to go. Those magical and physical wounds might be healed but there was still a mess of psychological damage that needed to be picked over and carefully dealt with. Byleth and her family could be that support system.

Assuming Byleth figure out how to explain all of this to her mother.

She'd already managed to somehow say it in words her father could understand. Seeing as his opinion of Rhea wasn't completely soured, he bought into Byleth's words a lot easier than Irie. Her mother was... maybe still just a touch upset with Rhea. 

Hate really wouldn't be the right word, whenever Irie talked about Rhea there was obviously still some lingering affections. The thing was, in a sense, Rhea had betrayed Irie. Apparently a distaste for betrayal was a family trait, as Irie didn't take to the whole thing too kindly. In fact, that could be said of both women. They both felt betrayed by the other. And that was what was currently dooming their ability to forgive and be a family. So that was the issue Byleth needed to start tugging at if she actually wanted any of her plans to start coming together properly. 

Apparently Byleth's silence was taken for stubbornness in the eyes of her mother as Irie gave another agitated sigh and snapped her book shut. They could both hear a chiming in the distance indicating the end of the hour. The early morning was finally shifting into normal morning and the sounds of life were starting to emerge through the monastery halls. In addition to that, it meant it was going to be time for their outing soon. 

Irie gave her daughter one last lingering look, her expression a mixed bag of emotions. Anxiety, anger, disdain, sadness, they were all prevalent in that confused gaze. As though her mother was still trying to decide if she wanted to believe Rhea was beyond saving or not. "Fine. I suppose you know this situation better than I do. I'll trust you. For now. But if that woman lays one finger on you-"

"You'll rip her entire hand off and we're never coming back. I know, I know," Byleth returned her mother's sigh with a very heavy one that sounded tired and worn. She slipped her own beautifully bound book back onto the bookshelf as the current year's students started to filter into the library at a constant rate, probably trying to get some last-minute studying in before some kind of important test. 

It didn't take long for a knight to come in and grab her mother's attention. Irie glanced at Byleth before removing herself from her seat and following the knight. 

Rhea was already in the reception hall when the pair arrived, very much dressed for the outing. 

She was flanked on either side by heavily armored guards, even though she technically didn't need them. Byleth could at least understand why she'd want them. It gave a hell of an intimidating and unapproachable visage. 

Like the flicking of a switch, Byleth put on all the airs of an innocent child. She dashed towards Rhea, flinging her arms around the legs of the much older and larger woman. Considering her own age it was difficult and it reminded her all that much more of the fact to the world around her she was still very much a child. 

"Hello little one," Rhea cooed, kneeling down slightly so she could appraise Byleth. Her voice was a little more controlled than it'd been the day before when Byleth had given her a hug before bed, but it was still twinged with notes that made Byleth worried. Byleth couldn't tell if this was the result of her attempts at healing the wounds left behind by the last reset or if it was just the presence of the guards that kept Rhea's disposition carefully measured. Either way, she could treat it as something of a jumping-off point. 

Her own mother still bristled in the background, hovering within arm's reach. At least she didn't look like she was going to hiss and start growling at any moment. Again, Byleth couldn't tell if it was a sign of progress for the fact that both Irie and Rhea were carefully trying to keep their issues concealed from the general public. Regardless of training and loyalty, there was always the chance a guard would talk. 

Hesitantly, Rhea directed a small smile at Irie. Byleth's mother didn't respond in turn with a smile of her own, but she gave a quick nod of acknowledgment. Tension Byleht didn't realize Rhea had been holding slowly started to seep from her shoulders as she started to lead the way. 

Even if the tension had begun to fade, they left the monastery with a quiet kind of tension still resting heavy on the shoulders of everyone present for different reasons. Many students and faculty gave cheerful greetings to Rhea as they were leaving. Rhea returned them with a kind of distant smile and chilled disposition as she kept herself positioned between her guards. The matronly, motherish kind of disposition started to show the faintest hints of cracks as she gravitated towards Byleth.

The submissive disposition Irie tried to wear around the guards quickly started to get thrown to the side as her aggressive and powerful mother dragon personality took over.

The two personas did not slot together like cogs. In fact, they rubbed together rather awkwardly. Byleth could hear the metaphorical metallic screech each time the two powerful personalities clashed against one another, neither yielding. Neither actually communicating. It was going to be a long day...

The trio had opted to walk since the weather was still fairly beautiful for the season. As they walked, Byleth slowly started to pull her magic into her palms. Discreetly as she could, she wrapped her hand in Rhea's. Rhea was a bit taken off guard by the action, but very quickly gave Byleth's little hand a squeeze, allowing for the two of them to walk hand in hand. While Rhea had never actually publicly admitted to having a child, Byleth had already heard the rumors running around the monastery.

Oh, how Irie looked like Rhea, and how fond Rhea was of Byleth. Questions started to surface and people each gave their own answers. The general consensus seemed to be the most accurate one. Irie was Rhea's estranged daughter who'd brought Rhea's granddaughter Byleth back for some reason or another. The reason for the estrangement varied wildly from rumor to rumor. 

Either way, even if Rhea didn't make any kind of announcement regarding their relationship, there was no actual reason to hide it either. Better in the long run. Rumors that got no attention often lived shorter lives, and it would be quite the benefit to Byleth if even though the rumor was running rampant in the monastery it stayed out of the ears of the higher nobility. 

Byleth turned towards her own mother, holding out her other hand which wasn't tingling with magic. Irie hesitated for a long moment, eyes flashing between Byleth and Rhea. As though remembering something, perhaps a promise she'd made to herself, she eventually took the offered hand. 

Ultimately, physical contact made Byleth's job a lot easier. Not only was it stronger, but she could be more discreet. 

She let her body essentially go on autopilot while they walked. And by that, Byleth meant she was letting Sothis so the walking. Her vision flickered and dimmed while her attention shifted, the magic pooled in her palms sparking and crackling against the inner machinations of Rhea's mind, unknown to either of the women Byleth was walking side by side with. 

Slowly she searched, though it didn't take her long. Sitting right inside of Rhea's chest and head were two ugly black knots fo tainted magic, strangling the good strands and feeding off of her like a parasitic tumor. The disgusting pitch color threads were all tangled up with Rhea's own magic as well as her Divinity. Byleth slowly worked her own magic into Rhea through their bound palms, trying to work away and undo the knot. 

She could so easily cut out the entire knot if she saw fit, but it was so deeply tangled up with other pieces of Rhea. Parts it wasn't fair to wrench away when the mistake had in all honesty been on the shoulders of Sothis and Byleth, more so Byleth. At least when it came to this magically inflicted ailment. When she was cured, Rhea's actions afterward were her own, but until then, Byleth took responsibility for Rhea acting worse than she should have. 

So Byleth with a steady stream of magic began to work the knot. 

_"There, start with that bit right there,"_ Sothis said, catching Byleth's attention and pointing it towards a lose string which could work as a good starting point. Sothis did what she could to help while she was technically piloting their body. 

Tracking down the ends of strings, Byleth started with them. Straightening out what they'd already managed to loosen up so that it wouldn't become tangled once more. Sothis' purpose in the process was more so to keep things organized. Byleth was the one who carefully prodded at the jumbled strings, pulling and unwinding until piece by piece the strings turned loose and another piece of rhea was able to escape the corrupted tangle. It wanted to be free, the pieces that were Rhea wiggled and squirmed and tried to escape the devouring tangle. They just needed a little help.

The shoulders of the Archbishop sagged slightly. 

Byleth continued to work the cords, finding where one met the other and working backward. When she was younger, she supposed a couple of years older given the reset, she'd once upon a time stumbled across a burned down village while traveling with her father and the company. She'd poked around a bit, being careful but curious, and she'd stumbled across a jewelry box. It was old and completely chocked full of necklaces, all of them an ugly tangle. 

Her father told her it wasn't worth the effort to try and untangle them, and since they couldn't really be sold for much, it would just be better to abandon the necklaces and sell the box which was inlaid with actual ivory. It was worth something to the rest of the world. But the tangled necklaces were worth something to Byleth. 

She'd always been stubborn, and this event was no exception. Every night with steady fingers whenever they settled down, she'd pull out the knot and start working through it. Piece by piece, bit by bit, freeing individual chains until others started to loosen up. it was just a matter of finding the way the necklaces tangled up in the first place and working backward. 

In the end, she freed every single necklace. Save for the few which had rusted already to the point of snapping while Byleth was working. She gave each one away whenever they found themselves in towns with pretty girls who had bare necks. Discreetly, she'd slipped them into the pockets of those girls who would look so much prettier in them than Byleth ever could. She had to be sneak though, she doubted anyone wanted a gift from someone like her. 

This tangle reminded Byleth of that. Luckily, the knot wasn't anywhere near as complex as the tangle of necklaces and Byleth had a lot more time than an hour or two before bed after the company settled down. 

With each strand Byleth freed, she could see the way that Rhea's misty gaze got a little shaper. More present and focused, until the Archbishop jumped slightly and almost looked confused when she glanced down at Byleht. As though snapping out of a daze for the first time in months if not years. Her expression almost bordered on nervousness. Byleth wasn't entirely done, but it was progress, so she gave one last sharp tug before calling it quits for the day. 

This wouldn't completely 'fix' Rhea. After the genocide of her people, she frankly was traumatized. She never got a healthy chance to grieve and come to terms with it either. Given her actions, she was still neck-deep in the bargaining phase of grief. It didn't excuse her actions, the same way nothing could excuse the actions of Byleth's children in some cases. But like all of her children, she deserved a second chance. Hopefully, this would at least help. 

For the first time since they'd arrived, Byleth saw both the women on either side of her glance at one another. Their eyes flashing with hurt and grief and perhaps even regret before looking away, their shoulders sagging in a mixture of humiliation and perhaps a little relief. There was still a long way to go, but progress was progress. 

Byleth liked to think she was a patient person. For now, she'd take this. 


	12. Chapter 12

_ 22nd of Wyvern, Year 1166 _

Byleth couldn't realistically put it into words, but she was convinced that there was something that felt entirely _ wrong _ about the monastery. There were no students to run around to crack jokes, distracting her from her lesson plans with invitations to tea or made up games. Similarly, there was no Seteth to gently chide her when she and the students got a little too raucous. There was no Flayn to tell him off and attempt to join in on the fun. Well, there were students doing some of those very things, but they weren't hers and the regular priests and knights certainly couldn't deliver a scolding with the grandiose fervor of Seteth. As such, the monastery felt empty. Byleth herself was hollow with only the shadows on the walls and scattered pieces of paper to keep her company when her mother didn't. 

She was willing to bet it would be around a year or possibly even two before she saw hide or hair of one of her students. She needed to review her plan before she was entirely certain about that fact, but a good chunk of time was still being dedicated to Rhea, whose progress towards something a little more sane was slow. Hopeful, but ultimately slow, which meant Byleth was stuck in the monastery for a while longer if she wanted all those aforementioned plans to click together with all the grace and ease they did when they were in her head during the gap between this reset and the last. It was a dark time for Byleth, but she'd taken the tail end of it to think up this ludicrous and complicated plan that she could only hope _ worked _. 

Presently, Byleth had surrounded herself with the aforementioned plan in the form of multiple sheets of paper scattered around her and the room her mother and herself had been sharing. Each was a desperate attempt to chart everything out from scattered snippets of memory Sothis had saved. 

So far this had been quite the issue for Byleth, one she was still trying to learn how to cope with. Complicated didn't even begin to explain the difficulties that came from Byleth being a literal child.

While she often said she still 'had' her memories from the prior resets that wasn't quite true, not in the traditional sense. Back when this whole mess had started, back in the prior reset, Byleth had subconsciously siphoned the memories of "Byleths" from other timelines who'd been faced with obstacles so great they'd given up, even when they had the power to reset and continually try again. The timeline of those Byleths had ended, and those Byleths were supposed to in turn disappear. But she, the Byleth of this timeline, had held onto them like a champion to their hopes and beliefs.

And in the prior reset, technically her first reset, it had driven her completely mad. 

She was an adult when all of this happened, which meant that she'd been able to hold onto those memories as well as the ones she ended up creating. Now things were a bit different.

Byleth wasn't an adult, she was a child. One with a rather undeveloped brain for the number of thoughts and memories she was trying to hold onto and keep in one stop. That's why she 'had' these memories. They were still bound in a way to the portion of her soul that looked, acted, and felt like Sothis. Her Sothis was the adult in this situation, holding these memories in their proper spots and doing a lot of higher-level thinking. Not all of it, mind you. Even if she was young and out of her sorts, Byleth was nothing else if not clever, and could sort herself out nicely when it came to daring plots. Even if she did occasionally still struggle and find herself asking Sothis to finish one train of thought or another. 

The sheer number of papers presently scattered around Byleth practically painting the floor white and various colors of ink was an unfortunate byproduct of her needing a couple more years and Sothis not having the best memory in the world either. While those memories were still locked inside of their very soul (the same way Sothis's old memories were) they were hard to access and sometimes the two needed to reach painfully deep for certain memories (especially ones pertaining to Sothis before she woke up as a piece of Byleth). As much as Sothis tried to help, she was still partially limited by Byleth's own abilities, which would leave them struggling to get everything in order if they weren't careful enough. 

Mixing up pieces of the plan simply _ wasn't _ an option, she needed to protect and save all of her children and as such, she needed to keep her plan in the right order until something threw a wrench in it. 

Paper was Byleth's strongest ally in this endeavor. Papers could be written and drawn upon with detailed plans as long as Byleth was careful about keeping them out of the sight of adults. Those plans could be recorded in a manner that's solid and expanded upon as necessary. She could carefully track each place she was going to visit for the next 15 or so years as well as each person she intended to visit and how she was going to help them. Ticking boxes one by one and deciding who she had to help vs. who could be left on their own because of the butterfly effect taking hold. Suffice to say, it was a gross amount of planning. 

A lot of planning and Byleth was slowly starting to reach her rope's end. Well, slowly might have been too kind a word. The child currently was leaned over so far her head was placed into her lap.

"Flexible," Sothis mutely observed. Rarely did she take her physical form these days, but occasionally when it was just the two of them and Byleth was slowly going plan crazy Sothis would appear to coo and ease the struggling child. Byleth felt like she was being treated as though she was an actual child, though she lacked the energy to care. "There, there," Sothis cooed as she rubbed her hand between Byleth's shoulder blades. Byleth was the only thing Sothis could interact with, but Sothis had never minded. 

The motherly charms of the currently taller Sothis did help a little bit but Byleth felt like she was going to implode. With a very tantrum like movement, she swept her arms across the ground and caused a flurry of papers to scatter. "Oh!" Sothis cried out in surprise as Byleth suddenly straightened herself, a genuine pout on her face as she turned to Sothis with a look halfway between a desperate and miserable cry for help and unrepentant anger. It only took half a second for both expressions to be snuffed out by one that was almost apologetic as Byleth once again turned miserably towards the messy sheets of parchment on the floor. 

"Is it time to put the plans away for today?" Sothis asked very gently as she rested her chin in Byleth's shoulder. Byleth gave a very small nod and began to sweep all the papers into a messy stack which she then hid under the bed before anyone could wander in, replacing them with a couple of colorful drawings. 

She'd had good timing too, as the moment she'd traded out her notes for random doodles she heard a rapping against the other side of the door. She became vaguely aware of the presence at her back disappearing like smoke as the door hesitantly creaked open, her head shooting towards the crack with a tilt. "Hello?" She questioned curiously, mentally going over any escape routes and weapons present in the room.

It wasn't that she thought she was in actual danger, that was just one of those old habits she had yet to break. 

The familiar face of Rhea was the one to appear in the doorway and Byleth felt herself relax. Not entirely, mind you, but she relaxed nonetheless. A warm smile instantly fell into place on Rhea's expression when she saw Byleth sat on the ground, surrounded by her crude drawings. 

That was one of those things which annoyed Byleth about this reset. In fact, it almost hurt her to create these. Byleth was never as good at art as Edelgard was, but she liked to think she'd learned a thing or two over time. It used to be one of the few things she entertained herself with when she was on the road as a mercenary, alongside reading or writing her own stories. She'd gotten pretty good at driving a horse or sitting in the back of a bumpy cart while she did one of her three favored activities. These drawings, however, very much looked like they'd been drawn by a child, which was a mixture of Byleth's poor motor controls at her given age as well as an actual attempt to downplay any skills that might tip Rhea off. 

As soon as she was safe to do so, Byleth would be reteaching herself quite a few things she'd neglected to remember when it came to her art. The only things she'd practice so far were her weapon skills, which was great but she had other passions even though it didn't always seem like it. 

"Hello little one, your mother and I have a surprise for you," Rhea said. She was starting to look a little more stable, but Byleth was betting on at least another moon or two before Rhea was stable enough to be told certain cherry-picked details about Byleth. She obviously couldn't tell Rhea everything, not for a couple of years at least, but it was the eventual hope of Byleth that she could be completely honest with the woman who was honestly and truly her grandmother. There was no way that Sothis could ever completely be brought back, not in this universe anyhow, but learning the full truth would just give Rhea a toxic kind of hope. Again, one day she hoped she could be completely honest, but it wouldn't be for a couple of years yet. Not until Rhea understood that Byleth was a person. Byleth was at least fairly sure she could carefully imply the fact she knew the future as long as she was tactful about it. 

She had to be if she wanted all of her plans to play out properly. Rhea was an integral piece of a lot of Byleth's planning, especially early on. She needed to have Rhea on her side and willing to help her if she had a chance of changing their future, stemming Fate's cruel flow and directing it the direction she preferred. 

In order to get Rhea into a condition she could help Byleth with her plan, Byleth first needed to figure out how to help her. That meant trying to change a lot of things about her current disposition in life. Byleth needed to figure out how to push her out of the rut she was currently stuck in, thinking that everything was fine and was going to be perfectly okay. The rut of wishing for a past that was long since gone. The Hiraeth that Rhea lusted after had long since disappeared. That story had Ended, and now it was Rhea's turn to let a new one Begin if they wanted a future that was rosy instead of crimson. Byleth had made the choice, it was Rhea's turn. 

Byleth stood up and cocked her head to the side in confusion at Rhea's words. "A surprise?" She asked. She could help but wonder if her mother actually had any part in this or if she was just getting lumped into it for the sake of setting Byleth more at ease. Rhea just smiled and nodded, her excitement vibrant in her eyes which looked more like peridot than cloudy mint as she offered her hand for Byleth to take. 

Everything was another step forward, Byleth thought to herself when she noticed the clarity in that gaze. Progress was terribly slow, but there was progress nonetheless. Even progress between Rhea and Irie. Byleth couldn't remember the two fighting since they'd gotten back from their outing into town, even better her mother had seemed a little more at ease around Rhea. At least, more trusting of the fact Byleth wasn't going to burst into flames and immediately die or get possessed by the ghost of a dead god just by standing within five feet of her. 

Byleth took the hand which was offered to her. Rhea held Byleth's hand gently, as though she was delicate and prone to shattering. She looked at her as though she was a dream that would disappear if she looked too hard. She treated her as though she was anything precious and fragile except for a person. 

Byleth couldn't help wondering if Rhea had taken the time to handle her own daughter with this much care. 

Byleth did her best to match the older woman's pace as Rhea led her out of the room and to a different part of the building. Rhea, in turn, tried to slow down slightly so it was easier for Byleth to keep up. The halls were primarily empty, thanks to the fact it was the third floor of the monastery. The floor in question was primarily intended for high ranking church members, like Rhea herself, and the few that Rhea trusted. It was that last caveat which left the population of the floor rather lacking, to say the least. 

Byleth was prepared for Rhea to show her something interesting, but something that wouldn't be holding her attention longer than she needed to put on the show of enjoying it for Rhea. Ever since their arrival, Rhea had been showering Byleth with treats, gifs, and attention in a bid to win her favor. Byleth for the time being tried to pretend that it was working, playing with the new toys in view of Rhea. If she was being honest with herself, at least it was entertainment, and there was something enjoyable about acting out the childhood Byleth herself never really got. It made for a good bonding activity if nothing else.

If she was being honest with Rhea, she didn't actually have to win Byleth's favor. She already had Byleth's favor, or more accurately her forgiveness. It twisted Byleth up on the inside seeing how broken and wounded Rhea still was. How decimated Rhea still was. Byleth knew the agony that came along with never being given the proper time and space to grieve. Being forced to go through the motions and shove all your feelings into a minuscule box because it wasn't safe to feel yet. Byleth knew all too well what it felt like to force herself into being a leader and a paragon when all she wanted to do was crumble to rubble and grieve. She pitied Rhea who didn't even know how to do that, and by extension, could never learn how to let go. 

So Byleth put on an act, allowing herself to be temporarily enthralled by childish glee whenever Rhea presented her with gifts and candies while doting on her every time Irie's back was turned. It was a little sad. Rhea really would have been the perfect mother, and by extension grandmother, if only Sothis hadn't left her alone before she was ready. 

By no will of Sothis. Byleth could feel a small twinge in the back of her mind at that thought, a bitter shard of regret from the Mother Goddess herself. It wasn't Sothis's fault, the only one who bore any fault was Nemesis and the Agartheans who decided to be vengeful. It was still a pity though. 

Byleth still believed that a person was never completely broken though. Rhea was alive, so Byleth liked to think she still had a chance. As long as there was breathe in a person's body, determination could be spun into their weary limbs and hope pressed into their aching hearts. Scars would remain, but wounds could heal and maybe never stop hurting but a person could relearn how to walk. 

She tightened her grip around Rhea's hand and she felt Rhea's grip tighten slightly in return, the Archbishop looking rather pleased and content.

"Are you ready for your surprise?" Rhea asked, a small but excited smile causing the corners of her mouth to pull upwards. Her tone was light and joyful in a way that Byleth hadn't heard so far in the time she and her mother had spent at the monastery. The door the two had stopped outside of was one that was unfamiliar to Byleth, which set her slightly on edge.

She nodded mutely, regarding it was a distant kind of curiosity. She couldn't push off the sense of worry and apprehension that started to pull at the corners of her mind, but it was one that she could still shrug off. It wasn't really the door that bothered her, but something tiny she noticed about Rhea. It was easy to tell when she suddenly shot up to a moment of clarity or dipped back down to a kind of insanity that really _ wasn't _ Rhea. Not the Rhea that the other Byleths had known. Only she'd ever known this Rhea and the story wasn't a good one. So it set her on edge when the corners of Rhea's smile got a little shaper and she stopped being able to tell if her gaze was in focus and if her expression was actually kind or not. 

Lately, she'd been more and more like the actual Rhea. The Rhea that the other Byleths had known. Not quite insane, but still, a wounded and miserable woman who'd never gotten to grieve properly and was starting to show those cracks. There were still moments of a feral Immaculate One bleeding through that persona, but still, there were moments where Rhea almost seemed to reach out and grab the realization that something was deeply wrong in her own self. Moments where she looked startled or unnerved. The kinds of moments that gave Byleth hope. 

Then occasionally came moments that shattered that hope where Rhea's gaze got distant and her movements turned uncomfortably sharp and animalistic. Like some kind of hunter or feral beast. A dragon who'd degenerated enough to lose its mind and finally sink back to nothing more but feral instinct and an endless hunger. The kind of creature that made the word 'yearn' look pale and 'lust' look superior when it came to describing how _ badly _ Rhea wanted the past to return. _ That _ was the Rhea that Byleth had met in the last reset. The Rhea that she and only she had the pleasure of meeting. 

Byleth only felt fear in moments like these when she couldn't tell which version she was speaking to. 

Rhea took Byleth silence as agreement and pushed the door open with what seemed to be an unabashed joy. "Say hello to the rest of your family!" She said in a voice that barely contained her happiness. Her smile turned into more of a grin which was a bit wild but not necessarily dangerous. Behind the door was none other than Seteth and Flayn. Cichol and Cethleann. 

The two were in the process of trying to hold a visibly awkward conversation with what looked to be a just as uncomfortable and mildly irate Irie. The room wasn't tense or on fire so Byleth took that as a good sign. Even though the tension that was there happened to be palpable. 

Seteth and Flayn were uncomfortable. Her mother was uncomfortable. Rhea's smile was twitching slightly at the corners. While the situation didn't seem at risk of imploding it certainly looked as though it was a quick trip downhill between the four dragons looking less than pleased. Okay, think fast, what was the best way that Byleth could diffuse the situation? Seteth and Flayn hadn't even known her mother existed until recently. If this wasn't the first time they'd heard about her existence, it was most certainly the first time they'd met her. The same went for Byleth, which made it harder for her to play up her relationships with them to diffuse things. Wait, okay, actually she could work with this. 

Darting forward and pulling off one of the most innocent and joyful smiles she'd ever physically managed to force her features to wear, she zeroed in on Flayn. "Wow!" Byleth exclaimed, making her eyes twinkle and light up with marvel and blissfully childish joy. If she'd learned nothing else from the memories of the other Byleth's combined with the last couple years of this reset, it was how to act. "You're so pretty! Are we really family? Your hair's such a lovely shade, will mine turn that color?" Byleth practically bounced on the balls of her feet as she tried to get up to Flayn's level. Just when she thought being shorter than Sothis felt weird, now she was faced with this? 

At the very least her cunning seemed to do her some good, and the plan worked. Any hint of hesitation immediately vanished behind exuberant joy as the much smaller Byleth grabbed onto Flayn's hands and looked up at her with a level of innocent glee that only the faces of kids could ever really pull off. 

"Oh father, she's adorable," Flayn cooed. So apparently they didn't pretend behind closed doors. 

Just as expected, Flayn's joy has a powerful effect on Seteth and his own expression relaxed into a fond smile while he watched the pair. "You're quite right Flayn. A bit of an unexpected surprise, but by all means, a pleasant one," he said, and a small bit of that fondness almost seemed to rest on her for a moment. Maybe because this time she wasn't a stranger that Rhea had randomly presented as the new teacher, but family. 

Rhea was contented by how quickly Byleth had taken to her new family members, which caused the twitching to stop and relax into an actual smile. One that was gentle and almost completely clear, as though the Rhea standing there was an entirely different person. As though she was a person who was well adjusted to the role she was currently playing as grandmother and matron. Byleth was almost taken off guard by the lack of expectation in Rhea's eyes. They were just so relaxed, as though this was fine. As though she accepted this, and it was fine, and it was enough. It felt like Byleth was actually being seen for the first time, which made a lot of the joy she started expressing to Flayn all that more genuine. 

Not that it hadn't been from the start, she was overjoyed to see the familiar faces, but admittedly she had been playing something of a role to keep the situation calm. Now she could be truly enthused as she turned back to Flayn, cheeks aching from the foreign expression. 

That was apparently the last piece of the puzzle that Byleth needed to keep the situation from going off the rails. Her face stretched into a massive smile because it was all actually working. It'd been so much hard work but her work was finally playing off. She turned to her mother who returned that loving, relaxed smile and for a moment everything was completely okay. 

"I'm glad you finally did take the time to introduce us. Though, Rhea, I do wonder where you found a husband all things considered," Seteth said. The mood shifted slightly as he looked at Rhea with a quirked eyebrow. Byleth wasn't entirely sure how much Seteth genuinely knew. He was probably suspicious at the very least, but Byleth didn't think he actually knew the full extent of what Rhea had been doing. 

In the past reset, he'd known a little about Byleth once the pieces started coming together that she was the child that 'died' in the monastery fire, but she didn't know if he was aware of Rhea's experiments. 

"Ah, yes. That's quite the story. We can talk about that later," Rhea said with a dismissive wave of her hand. Trying to brush off the topic at large rather than explain it fully. The cocked eyebrow quickly turned into a vexed expression while Irie visibly tensed up. Byleth's grip on Flayn tightened and even if the older girl didn't entirely understand she seemed to pull Byleth closer. "Sitri, dear-"

"Please don't call me that anymore," Irie instantly cut Rhea off, turning away. Her tone wasn't harsh, but it was certainly firm and resolute. A little bit of the tension started to return to the room, but Byleth didn't know how to deal with it. She for once was just as confused as Seteth and Flayn. Sitri? She didn't know the name, nor why it was once attached to her mother. Irie had always been Irie. According to Irie, Jeralt, and Alois. Even in the last reset, that seemed to be how Jeralt and Alois always referred to her. 

"Sitri?" Byleth was the one to voice the question as she turned to look around the room for answers.

Rhea cleared her throat awkwardly, his smile tensing up slightly when Byleth's curious gaze landed on her. "Ah, well, you see dear one, all of us in this room are _ very _ special. We have secret names that are our actual original names, given to us by our mother. We can't tell anyone else those names, so we can only use them around each other. They're names we only use in private. Your mama's was Sitri."

"Was," Irie said while glancing at Rhea. It wasn't a hard expression, as much as it was a mournful one. If anything, some of that anger which used to sit on the surface of Irie's expressions had degraded away into the misery of a daughter that was always seen but never known. "It isn't anymore though. I only have one now, and it's Irie Eisner. If you can't respect anything else about me, at least try to respect that. Oh, but I suppose that might be a bit difficult for you since a human did give me that name. I knew you never actually respected Jeralt, let alone myself. If you'll pardon me," she said, making a quick escape. While her words came out as a vicious and accusatory growl, they just sounded hollow. She left before anyone could respond. 

Seteth gave Irie a very odd look as she left, brushing past a disappointed Byleth who was still trying to wrap her head around the name she'd never even known her mother had. That weird look then turned on Rhea for half a second before turning to Byleth as well. It almost instantly began to soften as he came to stand beside Flayn and kneeled down slightly so he was closer to Byleth's eye level. "Hello there. My name is Seteth." He rested a hand on top of Byleth's head, his gentle tone speaking volumes more than any amalgamation of words could.

She had a feeling he knew. He had to. This version of Byleth was so much more likened to her last reincarnation when it came to her aura. He had to know. Seteth didn't treat her like she was just the reincarnation of Sothis. He treated Byleth like she was Byleth. 

She felt a little more hopeful.


End file.
